Category: English

My dad is an Oscar-winning actor. My mom is the top Hollywood agent. To help my boyfriend, I, someone who has never appeared on TV, joined him in a dating reality show. But I never expected to see him confess his love to another girl. “Mia, it’s all thanks to your uncle that I got the chance to join this reality show. I didn’t know you had such an impressive uncle,” Kyle said, beaming with excitement. As a C-list celebrity, getting to be part of Director Jacob Scott’s show was like winning the lottery. Seeing Kyle so happy made me smile, too. After all, I had begged my dad for this favor. Of course, I lied to Kyle—there was no uncle. It was my Oscar-winning father and top-agent mother who made a simple phone call to get me on the show. “Oh, and there’s something else,” I added. “Director Scott gave me two spots, so I’ll also be joining the show as a non-celebrity.” This was my first time stepping into the public eye. My parents had always protected me, so except for Uncle Jacob, no one knew my real identity. Kyle looked a bit stunned when he heard this. “Mia, don’t you prefer the quiet? Won’t this show be too much for you?” As a writer, I’ve grown used to working in peaceful surroundings. I shook my head and smiled. “It’s fine. I can’t stay in quiet spaces forever. It’ll be fun to try something different.” Kyle quickly recovered. “Mia, that’s great! Let’s go on the show together and let the entire country witness our love.”

This was the third season of the dating show, “Love & Paradise,” and since the first two seasons had great ratings, the third one was highly anticipated. Four couples, six of whom were celebrities, and two, including me, were non-celebrities. One of the stars, Chloe Baker, was a huge draw, with half the audience tuning in just for her. To help the contestants bond, we were taken straight to a boat upon arrival, heading to a private island for filming. Kyle, trying to avoid suspicion, didn’t speak to me much and instead laughed and chatted with the other stars. I felt a bit disappointed but understood. If it became known that we were already dating, the audience would definitely criticize us for not being genuine. I glanced over at another non-celebrity, Evan Riley. At 6’1″, tall and handsome, with a cool, distant vibe, he certainly stood out. But once the others heard he was just an office worker, their interest in him faded. After all, everyone here was looking for fame, and an ordinary office worker wouldn’t bring much buzz. It was summer, and the sun was brutal, even out on the water. The other stars, including Kyle, didn’t want to get sunburned, so they all planned to head indoors. “Mia, aren’t you coming inside? You’ll get sunburned out here,” Chloe said sweetly, though her eyes flashed with something less friendly. I caught it right away. I didn’t know why she had it out for me. I glanced at Kyle, but he didn’t even look my way, let alone say anything.

The show hadn’t even started yet, and the avoidance was already this extreme? Feeling more disappointed, I replied, “No, I’m fine. You guys go ahead.” “Chloe, you’re too kind. Some people just don’t appreciate good intentions. Best to ignore them in the future,” Sarah Bennett, another actress, chimed in. I looked at Sarah, a supporting actress who was pretty enough but whose calculating gaze made her seem less attractive. “Is that so?” Chloe said softly. “I was just trying to be friendly, but I guess I overstepped.” What on earth? I hadn’t even refused to go inside—how did this turn into a whole scene? Before the filming even began, they’d already pushed me and Evan to the sidelines, and Kyle hadn’t defended me once. Soon, we arrived at the destination. I was shocked as I looked around, recognizing the place immediately. If I wasn’t mistaken, this was my family’s estate. My dad loves traveling and has bought several properties on private islands, all designed by world-renowned architects. No wonder Uncle Jacob had insisted I come along—he wanted to use our estate for the shoot.

Chloe and the others were awestruck by the estate’s luxury. “This place is gorgeous!” “It must cover hundreds of acres!” “Waking up to an ocean view every day—what a dream!” While they were all buzzing with excitement, I stood quietly to the side. My dad had brought my mom and me here several times. The first visit was exciting, but after a few trips, the novelty wore off. My dad moved on to exploring other islands, so we hadn’t been here in a long time. Noticing my silence, Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Mia, why aren’t you saying anything? Not happy with the filming location?” “Chloe, I think you might be misunderstanding Mia. She’s probably just stunned, having never seen an estate this grand before,” Sarah said, attempting to sound witty but only coming across as smug. Sure, I thought. Even these stars hadn’t seen a place like this before. What were they expecting from me? I glanced at Kyle, expecting him to maybe say something, but he only looked annoyed. Wait—was he embarrassed by me? “Hah, it’s just an estate. My family has plenty. I’m not talking because I’m not like you—easily impressed,” I snapped back, my patience finally wearing thin.

Chloe and the others didn’t take it well, their faces stiffening. After all, they really had looked like people who’d never seen such grandeur before. “Wow, big talk! Your family owns multiple estates? Why don’t you just say this estate belongs to you, Mia? It’s daytime, you don’t need to start dreaming yet,” Sarah sneered, crossing her arms. I was about ready to drop my luggage and leave, if not for Uncle Jacob’s show. Seeing that I was upset, Uncle Jacob quickly stepped in as a peacemaker. “Alright, let’s move on and get ready to start filming. Everyone, head to the living room for a break,” he said. With that, the group reluctantly dropped the conversation and headed inside. Kyle, dragging his feet, waited until the others were inside before approaching me. “Mia, watch what you say. This is going to air nationwide, and you’ll be the one who looks bad,” he said, pretending to be concerned. “What do you mean I’ll look bad? Kyle, didn’t you hear what they said about me? I’m your girlfriend.” I stared at him, completely disillusioned. I never thought he could say something like this. “Mia,” he glanced around nervously. “We agreed to keep our relationship quiet, remember? Besides, don’t mess with Chloe. Her fanbase could bury you with hate.” Wow, the way he said “Chloe” sounded so affectionate. I gave Kyle a cold look. Maybe it was time to reconsider this relationship.

Once inside, Uncle Jacob announced the start of filming. The first game involved winning room assignments. We would pair up and play games to decide the room selections. If we were judging by physique, Evan Riley, tall and fit, would be the first pick. But since he was a non-celebrity, Chloe and Sarah passed on him. Chloe turned to Kyle. “Kyle, I want the first room on the left.” Kyle, oozing confidence, replied, “I’ve got it covered.” What a jerk. My usually mild temper was starting to boil over. I marched up to Evan. “Let’s team up. I want that first room on the left, too.” Evan raised an amused eyebrow and quietly agreed, “Sure.” Kyle frowned, clearly wanting to say something, but with cameras on him, he just gave me a frustrated glare. I ignored him and dragged Evan into the game. The first challenge was a ball-toss game. The guys had buckets tied to their waists, and we girls had to throw balls from two meters away. The pair that caught the most balls would win. Though I usually spent my time writing, my dad had built me a private gym. Between writing, I worked out regularly, so I was in pretty good shape. Chloe and Sarah, on the other hand, were fragile and ate almost nothing to stay thin. Their weak throws rarely landed in their partners’ buckets. It didn’t take long for Evan and me to pull ahead. We won the first round easily. “Yes!” I high-fived Evan, feeling elated. Evan smiled at me. “This is the first time I’ve seen you smile so brightly. It suits you.” Of course I was smiling—Kyle and Chloe’s faces looked like they’d just swallowed lemons. Wait, how did Evan notice I hadn’t smiled much before?

The next challenge was a balloon-popping game. We were both tied to balloons, and the goal was to pop them by pressing against each other. The pair that finished fastest would win. Because I wasn’t that familiar with Evan, I hesitated, and we ended up taking longer, finishing in third place. Chloe and Kyle won. They acted like a real couple, completely ignoring boundaries, practically glued to each other. I noticed Kyle’s hands wandering to Chloe’s private areas more than once, and she didn’t seem to mind, holding him tight. By this point, I wasn’t even fazed. My disappointment in Kyle had reached its peak. Evan, on the other hand, felt embarrassed. “Sorry, I slowed us down. I’ll make sure to win the next game.” “Don’t worry about it,” I smiled. At first, I’d been fired up to beat Chloe and Kyle, but now, seeing how things were, it didn’t seem worth it. Still, Evan won the next game for us. Kyle, meanwhile, lost his temper and took it out on Evan, accidentally injuring his face during the game. This man-child, I thought. I couldn’t believe I ever liked him. In the end, I chose the room Chloe had wanted all along—the one with the ocean view, the one I always stayed in when visiting the estate. No way was I going to let her have it. Evan picked the room across from mine. Since then, Chloe had been in a constant bad mood, and despite Kyle’s attempts to cheer her up, she barely acknowledged him. I have no idea what Kyle whispered to her at the end, but whatever it was, it brought a smile back to her face.

Since I decided to let go of Kyle, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. Whatever Chloe and Kyle did together was none of my business anymore. It had been a while since I last visited the island, so I figured I might as well enjoy my time here. I unpacked quickly since I knew where everything in the room was. After all, I had decorated this room myself. When I walked into the living room, it was empty. Everyone was still in their rooms, settling in, and I could hear occasional exclamations as they discovered various decor pieces. Most of the items in the estate were specially commissioned by my dad from well-known designers and included a lot of rare collectibles. Things you wouldn’t easily find anywhere else. I shrugged, not too impressed, and wandered into the kitchen. At this estate, everything was DIY—no staff to cook for us, so dinner was something we had to prepare ourselves. Even though I didn’t cook often, I could handle simple dishes. I pulled out some vegetables and started preparing a basic stir-fry. A few minutes later, Evan walked into the kitchen. When he saw me cooking, he immediately offered to help. After spending the day with him, I’d grown to like him more. He was easy to be around. “What do you like to eat?” I asked. “I’ll make something for you.” Evan smiled again, that calm and warm smile of his. “Anything is fine with me. I’m not picky.” He really was an easygoing guy. As we cooked, I heard the voices of Chloe and Sarah coming from the living room. “Chloe, there’s a painting in my room that’s worth over a million dollars! I looked it up!” Chloe nodded. “I have a porcelain vase that looks pretty valuable, too. The show’s producers really pulled out all the stops. I wonder who owns this estate.” “Obviously, it’s because of you, Chloe. The producers must have wanted to impress you! The estate’s owner probably jumped for joy when they heard you were coming,” Kyle’s voice chimed in from behind, his flattery making Chloe giggle.

“Oh, stop it, Kyle. You’re just teasing,” Chloe replied with a playful smile. “I’m serious! You’re such a star right now. The estate owner would be honored to have you here. Heck, they’d probably dedicate the room you’re staying in to you!” Kyle’s words brought out an even bigger smile from Chloe. She was clearly eating up his praise. “You know, people only get their rooms dedicated to them after they’re dead,” Evan remarked dryly from across the room, bringing their lively conversation to an abrupt halt. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Evan’s bluntness was perfect. “Mia, what’s so funny?” Chloe snapped, her annoyance immediately redirected toward me. “Oh, nothing. I just thought of something funny,” I replied innocently. “What’s so funny?” Chloe pressed, refusing to let it go. “Are you laughing at me?” “No, it’s just that…my dog had puppies,” I said, barely containing my laughter. Evan grinned, catching on quickly. “Yeah, my dog just had puppies, too.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer and laughed out loud. This guy was too much. Chloe’s face flushed with anger, her eyes reddening with frustration. “Mia! How dare you pick on Chloe? Apologize right now!” Kyle marched over, his face full of fake outrage, even throwing me a subtle look as if he expected me to cave in. I rolled my eyes and ignored him, turning to Evan instead. “Evan, how about I make some scrambled eggs with tomatoes? It’s one of my specialties.” Evan’s smile widened. “I’d love to try it.” “Mia!” Kyle shouted, clearly upset that I was ignoring him. He reached out to push me, but Evan was quicker, grabbing Kyle’s arm before he could touch me. “What? You want to hit a woman?” Evan asked coldly. “Let go of me!” Kyle snarled, trying to yank his arm away, but Evan held firm. “Listen up,” Evan said in a low voice. “In the future, you talk. You don’t touch.” He let go of Kyle’s arm, sending him stumbling back a step. Kyle’s face flushed with embarrassment. What a weakling.

Dinner was finally ready, and Evan and I dug in, enjoying the meal together. Sarah eventually wandered into the kitchen, looking around for food, but finding none, she pouted and approached us. “Mia, I want to eat, too. Make me a plate.” Then Kyle spoke up again. “Oh, and I saw ribs in the kitchen. Why don’t you whip up some sweet and sour ribs for Chloe? While you’re at it, you should apologize to her.” His request almost made me laugh out loud. The nerve of him! Just moments ago, he was angry with me, and now that he was hungry, he was acting all friendly? I wasn’t having it. “Are you guys serious?” I snapped. “What do you think this is? Do I look like your personal chef? I’m not your mom, so stop expecting me to cook for you.” Letting all my frustration out felt incredibly satisfying. “Mia, watch what you say! I’ll get angry!” Kyle’s face darkened. “Yeah, Mia! What’s with the attitude? Why would you cook for Evan but not for us? We’re all on this show together, yet you’re playing favorites!” Sarah screeched, hands on her hips, as if she had a right to boss me around. I looked at her in disbelief. “You’ve got some nerve. I’ll cook for whoever I want. Don’t act like you’re some innocent victim here. You’ve done plenty, and I’m not blind to it.” Then I turned to Kyle. “And you—why should I care if you’re angry? You want to kiss up to Chloe, go cook for her yourself. We’re not that close.” Kyle’s face stiffened, caught off guard by my response. “We’re not that close? Don’t make things up, Mia!” I gave him a cold smile. “Good. Now that we’ve cleared that up, you guys can figure out your own meals. I’m done playing nice.” With that, I grabbed my plate and walked away, leaving them speechless.

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Three months into being bullied, I jumped off the rooftop. My tattered school uniform, hair that looked like it had been chewed by a dog, and the dull ache from my bruises all reminded me how worthless I had become. Insulting words were scribbled all over the school rooftop. Madison Pierce grabbed my head and slapped me relentlessly. I shoved Madison away with all my strength and leapt into the air. Like a butterfly with broken wings, I plummeted toward the ground. Let it end. Let it all end… 1． When I opened my eyes again, I was in an unfamiliar room—bright, cozy, and comfortable. Standing in front of a mirror, it didn’t take me long to understand: I had been reborn in a new body. My head was spinning, and nausea swept over me. I ran to the bathroom and threw up before I felt a bit better. I had no memory of her life. Searching through her room, I found a diagnosis of depression, a diary, and a half-empty bottle of sleeping pills. “Claire Harper.” I muttered her name as I traced her picture with my fingers. “She’s so beautiful.” I opened her diary and began reading about her past. September 1st. The first day of school. I was so happy. During my introduction, I didn’t reveal my true identity. I just mentioned I got in as one of the top ten students from the entrance exam. September 2nd. I moved into the dorm today. There’s a girl in my room pretending to be me, claiming she’s the daughter of America’s wealthiest family, with countless companies under her family’s name. I glanced at her cheap makeup and knockoff designer clothes, but I didn’t call her out. I responded politely to her questions, but I wasn’t as friendly with her as I was with the other two girls in the room. She noticed the genuine designer brands in my luggage and couldn’t hide the jealousy in her eyes. September 3rd. Half of my skincare and makeup products were missing. When I asked who had taken them, she said she gave permission for the other two roommates to use them. She told me not to be so stingy, but she hadn’t asked for my permission. I reported it to the teacher, but she wasn’t punished. The teacher only advised me to get along with my classmates. September 10th. It felt like she started to hate me even more. She banded together with the others to isolate me, but I didn’t really care. I stayed in the library until it closed at 10 PM, but when I returned to the dorm, the door was locked. I knocked for what felt like hours, but no one opened it. I had no choice but to stay at my family’s hotel for the night. September 11th. When I got back to the dorm, no one was there. I lay down on my bed to read. They came back later, and when I asked why they locked me out, she covered her mouth in mock surprise, claiming she hadn’t heard me knocking. Was that really possible? September 15th. The photos of me staying at the hotel were posted on the Riverdale Academy Instagram page. The hotel manager came out to greet me, but the caption suggested I was living a shady life, implying I was being “kept.” I explained, but no one believed me. Soon, the whole campus was gossiping about me. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Over the next few days, the insults continued—both directly and indirectly. I put on my headphones to drown them out, but that only made them worse. They trashed my belongings, scattering them all over my bed. I ended up renting an apartment near the school. September 20th. When I walked into the classroom, a smelly trash can was dumped over my head, and I heard laughter all around me. I was shoved onto the teacher’s desk, dirty water dripping down my school uniform. Someone pulled the trash can off my head. I stood there, filthy and humiliated, while they looked pristine and perfect. I ran back to my seat in tears. The word “slut” was carved into my desk, the sight of it searing my eyes. The class president came to my rescue, draping his jacket over my shoulders and guiding me out of the room. I glanced back and caught Madison’s hateful glare. A shiver ran down my spine. He was the one light in this school—the only reason I stayed. I didn’t transfer because I was afraid I’d lose sight of him if I did. October 23rd. My parents and brother, who were abroad, sent me loads of gifts to celebrate my new school year. My brother sent me a designer bag, saying it matched my style. I unwrapped it on the way back to class. As soon as I sat down, Madison was crying, and everyone rushed to comfort her. Then someone snatched my bag, accusing me of stealing. I told them it was a birthday gift from my brother, but no one believed me. One of Madison’s cronies shoved a video in my face. It showed me suspiciously unwrapping a package by the trash can. Within half an hour, word spread that I was a thief. I shoved the receipt in Madison’s face. She didn’t say a word, but she ripped the bag apart in front of me and handed me the pieces. I almost called the police, but she begged for my forgiveness. I forgave her, and she promised it would never happen again. November 16th. The class president invited me to his birthday party. I was thrilled and spent hours trying on different outfits. But when I entered the karaoke room, he had his arm around Madison. Several other girls, dressed in wild outfits, stood by her side. Madison slapped me hard across the face, calling me a pathetic loser and instructing the others to beat me up. She assured them she’d take the blame if anything went wrong. Slaps rained down on me. I fought back, but it only made them hit harder. December 1st. I dragged my aching body back to the apartment. The blade of a knife slid across my arm, and blood trickled down. I hid in the corner of the dark room, sobbing. The deep abyss of the night and the blood spilling from my arm felt like my only salvation. December 10th. Let an accident happen to me! I wanted to forget those people and everything that had happened. The pain was suffocating, and I couldn’t stop crying, barely able to make a sound. I felt abandoned, hated. The world was a lie, deadlier than poison, more crushing than falling off a cliff. There was no empathy left in this world. I bought a bottle of sleeping pills. I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep… The diary ended there. I closed it, overwhelmed by how much I could relate to her. She was just like me—a victim. I hugged her diary and cried. 2. But I didn’t understand. Claire Harper came from an incredibly wealthy family, with powerful brothers and rich parents. She never had to face any consequences. There were always people ready to clean up her messes. Why would a rich girl go to a school like Riverdale Academy pretending to be a normal student? Was it for the beatings? The humiliation? Now that I was Claire Harper, I would make sure her enemies paid. In my previous life, my family was poor, powerless, and subject to endless bullying. But now? Now I was a wealthy heiress. Let’s see who dares mess with me. The next morning, I walked into school with $5,000 in cash. I went straight to the senior bully’s classroom and called him out. I shoved the cash into his hands. “Here’s five grand. Teach someone a lesson for me.” His eyes lit up, weighing the money in his hands. He smirked. “Consider it done. Just give me the time, place, and name. How do you want it handled?” I handed him a note with a carefully thought-out plan. That evening after school, the bully and his crew dragged the girl who had tormented Claire to the rooftop. I followed them up there. “Each of you guys,” I instructed, “give her five hard slaps. My hearing’s a bit bad, so make sure it’s loud enough.” The sound of slaps echoed across the rooftop. Slap! Slap! Slap! After what seemed like an eternity, her face was swollen like a pig’s head, and she could barely speak. She collapsed at my feet, begging for mercy, promising to be my dog if I spared her. I stood above her, towering, holding up my phone, recording every second of it. “Apologize. And tell me exactly how you bullied me.” Half an hour later, I patted her swollen cheek. “If you ever breathe a word about what happened today, I’ll post this video. Let everyone see how you grovel like a dog.” For the next two weeks, she fetched me coffee, did my chores, and cleaned the blackboard. Everyone at school was baffled. They had no idea what had changed. If anyone came for me, she stood in their way first. It was fun! I had finally avenged Claire. Now it was time to get revenge for myself. 3． “This is our new transfer student, Claire Harper.” “Hi, everyone. My name is Claire Harper.” Facing the 39 familiar faces, I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. After taking a deep breath, I scanned the room, one face at a time. The boy with the biggest smile had cut my hair. The one clapping the loudest had poured glue all over my clothes. When I accidentally bumped into the guy in front of me, he would jump back and curse at me, as if I were something filthy. They hadn’t physically hit me, but the isolation, the insults, and the taunts had hurt just as much. The echo of their mocking laughter still lingered in my mind, sending a cold sweat down my back. Words don’t break bones, but they can destroy souls. “Excuse me.” That sweet voice felt like nails on a chalkboard. Madison Pierce walked in, looking every bit the princess she always pretended to be. “Madison, no more being late,” the teacher said, still coddling her like always. Madison stuck her tongue out playfully. “Got it, Miss Wilson. Is this the new student? Wow, she’s so pretty!” In my previous life, I had been assigned to sit next to her. She had tortured me just because a boy she liked had glanced my way. I remember her stabbing me repeatedly with the sharp end of a compass, making the entire class unbearable. My timid reaction had only encouraged her. The moment the bell rang, she dragged me into the bathroom and beat me senseless. That was the day the bullying began. “Megan, you’re just a poor girl from the countryside, and you still think you can win over Jackson? Scratch her face up for me!” Madison’s words dragged me back to the present. She was holding out her hand—the same hand that had slapped me countless times. I stared at her, speechless for a moment. As much as I hated to admit it, Madison Pierce was beautiful, with her perfectly symmetrical face and dimples that appeared whenever she smiled. An angelic face, but the heart of a devil. I fought against the tremor in my arm as I shook her hand, forcing a smile. “Sure.” Madison Pierce was my seatmate once again. 4. Sitting beside Madison made every class feel like torture. “So, Claire Harper, what does your family do?” Madison asked, her voice dripping with the same curiosity from my past life. She was deciding whether I would be her friend or her servant, depending on my answer. Her father was the City Mayor, after all, with enormous power. She didn’t suffer any consequences after she drove me to my death in my previous life. She had just continued living her charmed life. “My family owns a business. We’re doing okay.” “Everyone here’s family owns a business,” she scoffed, giving me a disdainful once-over. I glanced at her but didn’t respond. Suddenly, another girl chimed in. “You look so familiar! You’re the daughter of the Harper Corporation, aren’t you? We met at the gala last summer.” I turned toward the girl and gave a cold, indifferent nod. She was the one who had once stuck gum in my hair. Most of the students at Riverdale Academy were children of Hartford’s elite. It wasn’t unusual for someone to recognize Claire Harper. “The Harpers!” Madison’s eyes lit up. “Isn’t your brother the new department head here?” I didn’t answer, pretending to focus on the teacher’s lecture instead. Madison leaned closer. “Hey, Claire, could you grab something for me after class?” I tilted my head, giving her an innocent smile. “Do you deserve my help?” “Oh wow, the ‘Harper Princess’ sure doesn’t like to play nice, huh?” “Looks like Madison finally met her match!” “Madison’s the Mayor’s daughter! How dare Claire talk back?” The whispers grew louder, drowning out the teacher’s voice. Madison’s face turned bright red with anger. She jumped to her feet and shouted, “Shut up! Can’t you see the teacher is talking?” The classroom fell silent. “Claire Harper, you think you’re untouchable?” Madison asked, her voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather. “Mayor’s daughter, huh?” I chuckled. “Madison, you’ve had things too easy for far too long, haven’t you?” Madison’s face flushed with rage, and she raised her arm, ready to slap me. But I caught her wrist mid-swing and slapped her across the face. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. I lost count. Every strike was payback for the times she had humiliated me in my past life. “Stop this at once!” Ms. Wilson’s voice cut through the chaos, putting an end to my ‘attack.’ “You two, come with me to the Principal’s Office. The rest of you, study quietly.” I massaged my hand, which was stinging from the force of the slaps, while looking down at Madison. Her face was swollen, and she looked like a beaten pig. One word came to mind: satisfaction. “Sorry if I hit you too hard. Does it hurt?” I asked sarcastically, throwing her own words back at her. Leaving her fuming behind, I followed Ms. Wilson to Mr. Matthews’ office. As I walked away, I could hear applause from the classroom and Madison’s angry screams. 5. Standing in the Principal’s Office, I watched as Mr. Matthews calmly sipped his coffee. He was holding my enrollment file in his hand. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. “Claire Harper, why did you hit Madison Pierce?” “She deserved it.” He didn’t seem phased. “Do you know who her father is?” Ah, here it comes. “The Mayor.” “Claire, you should know that Madison’s family isn’t one you can mess with. I strongly advise you to leave this school before she returns. Riverdale Academy isn’t for people like you.” Did he really just call the Harper family “small-time”? Without a word, I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. Before I could finish, Ms. Wilson, who had been quiet up until now, suddenly snatched the phone out of my hand and smashed it onto the ground. “Claire Harper, I am your teacher! Do you even understand what respect is?” I glared at her. “Who are you calling disrespectful?” Ms. Wilson flinched, clearly not expecting my defiance. She fumed, “You’re out of control! No wonder you come from such a lowly family. You have no class at all!” “I bet your father’s no better! A man with no manners raises a daughter with none!” She pointed her finger at me, hurling insult after insult—ones I had heard before in my past life. Furious, I shoved her back. “Say that again, I dare you!” I was Claire Harper now. This family—her family—was mine to protect, and no one would insult them in front of me. Just then, Madison stormed into the office, tears streaming down her face. She shoved me aside. “Claire Harper, how dare you push the teacher!” Ms. Wilson pointed at me, her voice shaking with rage. “This girl is out of control! I’m calling the Principal to have her expelled!” As she patted Madison on the back, the Principal walked by. Without hesitation, Madison grabbed his arm, pulling him into the office. Now it was just me and Madison. She crossed her arms, her voice cold. “Claire Harper, if you get down on your knees and beg, I’ll let you stay at Riverdale Academy.” Beg so she could keep torturing me? No way. “Madison, if I don’t get expelled, how about you get on your knees and apologize to me?” I challenged, staring her down. “Who do you think you are to make a bet with me?” Madison sneered. “You’ll be begging before the day’s over, whether you like it or not.” Madison was sure of her victory. In my past life, Madison’s favorite thing was making us kneel and apologize to her, even when we had done nothing wrong. “Who are you making kneel?” “What’s it to you?” she spat back. At that moment, Madison’s expression changed from venomous to fake innocence as she spotted someone entering the room. “Oh, Mr. Harper, I didn’t mean it like that. Claire hit me first. I just lost my temper and said some things I shouldn’t have. Saying that, Madison was about to fall towards that teacher. 6. Mr. Harper ignored Madison’s theatrics and strode over to me. Grabbing my shoulders, he shook me hard. “Little sis, are you okay?” He was shaking me so hard I felt like I might throw up. This must be Claire’s older brother, Ryan Harper, the one Madison had mentioned. “Ryan?” He looked at me, panic in his eyes. “Has this crazy girl hit you so hard that you can’t even recognize your own brother? Let me check for bruises.” I let him turn me around and check me for injuries. “I’m fine, Ryan.” I turned and shot Madison a smirk. “I’m the one who hit her.” The moment Madison realized he really was my brother, she scrambled to her feet, fixing her disheveled hair. “I must’ve done something wrong to upset Claire. That’s why she hit me, right? Ryan, please don’t be mad at her.” Ryan and I spoke in unison: “Who said I’m your brother?” Madison’s face flushed red, swelling further as the bruises began to show. Her pig-like face was almost comical. It would’ve been funny if she looked like that forever. I watched her standing there, dumbstruck and humiliated, like a dirty ragdoll—just as I had been in my previous life. “Claire Harper, are you alright?” Mr. Matthews, the principal, rushed into the room, with Ms. Wilson trailing behind him, looking like a frightened bird. “I’m fine.” I shrugged, gesturing toward the shocked and swollen-faced Madison Pierce. Mr. Matthews put a hand on Madison’s shoulder, speaking in a low, hushed tone. But Madison suddenly exploded, jumping up and shouting, “I’m not apologizing! She hit me first!” She covered her face dramatically and cried, “Uncle, she hit me! You have to expel her! Look at my face! When my dad comes—” “When your dad comes, what?” Mr. Matthews slammed his hand on the desk, cutting her off. “Even if your father himself showed up right now, it wouldn’t change the fact that you were in the wrong!” Madison stared at him, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. “You’re going to hit me, too? You’ve forgotten how you even got this job, haven’t you? If you want to keep it, you better expel this piece of trash right now!” SLAP! The sound of Mr. Matthews’ hand connecting with her cheek echoed through the room. “Enough of your tantrums! You think it’s no big deal to bully someone to the point of death?” Madison clutched her face in disbelief, tears streaming down her cheeks. To them, in my past life, pushing me to my death had been nothing more than “childish antics,” hadn’t it? “Uncle, you actually hit me for this… this nobody?” “Who did you just call a nobody?” Ryan Harper casually cleaned his ear with a finger. “I think I must’ve misheard.” Mr. Matthews, ignoring Madison’s cries, turned to Ryan. “Mr. Harper? When did you arrive?” Ryan stepped forward, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Just in time to see my little sister get treated like this.” Mr. Matthews visibly paled, bowing his head. “My deepest apologies for the misunderstanding, Mr. Harper. This… This was all a mistake.” 7. The principal pulled out his phone and made a call. I could hear the sound of someone shouting obscenities and the clatter of poker chips through the speaker. “Mr. Harper, please give me just a moment to explain the situation to Madison’s family,” Mr. Matthews said nervously. I leaned over to Ryan, whispering, “Ryan, didn’t you buy your college degree?” “Hey! I worked hard for that!” Ryan tried to hide his embarrassment, his good looks now tinged with a little awkwardness. “You think I wanted to be here? The family made me enroll just to keep an eye on you.” “Oh, I’ll make sure David hears about how much you hate it.” Ryan nearly dropped to his knees in panic. “No, please! I’m loving it. Best job ever!” “Claire Harper!” Madison suddenly shrieked, interrupting our conversation. Her face was a blotchy mess from tears and smeared makeup. “Just wait until my dad gets here! When he does, you’ll be expelled!” God, she really was thick-headed. I’d already told her she couldn’t mess with the Harper family. Let her keep going, she’ll destroy her own life. “Fine,” I said, folding my arms. “I’ll wait to see if I get expelled.” Ten minutes later, Mr. Matthews returned, his face pale. “Claire Harper, Madison’s family says they will leave the matter entirely in your hands. They trust your judgment.” “I don’t believe it! You’re lying!” Madison grabbed the phone from him and dialed her father. Mr. Matthews didn’t even bother to stop her. He knew there was nothing left for him to do. I nodded toward Ryan, and he quickly dialed our older brother, David. I passed the phone to Mr. Matthews. “Here. It’s my brother.” Mr. Matthews, trembling, took the phone with both hands. “Mr. Harper, sir! No need for that, really. Yes… Yes, of course, sir. No, no, it’s no trouble at all for you to take time out of your busy schedule. Everything will be handled, sir. Thank you for your guidance!” He nearly looked ready to cry by the time David hung up. Then he handed the phone back to me. “Big brother,” I spoke softly into the phone. David’s voice was tired but warm. “Don’t worry, little sis. I’ve got your back, no matter what. Just don’t break any laws.” He didn’t ask for details. Our family always looked out for each other. “Thank you, David.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I hung up. I had never known this kind of love and protection in my past life. “Put it on speaker, Claire,” David said before I hung up. “Let them all hear this.” I clicked on speakerphone, and Madison, seeing this, did the same with her own call. “This matter is entirely in Claire’s hands,” David’s voice boomed over the speaker. “And tell the Mayor—if his daughter dares to harass my little sister again, I’ll make sure she regrets it.” “Mr. Harper,” Madison’s father’s voice wavered on the other end, “Please, let’s not involve the adults in a petty schoolyard squabble. Surely, we can allow the children to handle this themselves?” Madison’s dad’s supplicating voice clearly reached everyone’s ears, including those eavesdropping at the door.

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Because of their business, my parents sent me to live with my Grandma Sarah in rural Kentucky, and they didn’t bring me back until I was eight. Dad told me to be more obedient and sensible, while Mom warned me not to use “tricks that won’t get you anywhere in life.” My sister Amanda made it clear I wasn’t worthy of touching her princess dress, and my brother Eric outright said I shouldn’t have come back at all. Finally, on my nineteenth birthday, I left that house just as they wanted. But then, they regretted it. They begged me to come home, and I just shook the hand I was holding onto. “Sorry, but I’ve found a new family.” By the time I returned to the Grant Family Mansion in Chicago, it was already dark. Apart from the security guard at the front, no one noticed my arrival. My family was enjoying dinner together in the dining room, laughing and chatting like nothing had changed. I opened the door to my room. I had been staying in the dorms at the University of Illinois for the past month, and no one had cleaned here. A thin layer of dust covered everything. I wasn’t surprised. I pulled out some tissues from my bag and wiped down the chair and desk before sitting down. Then, I took out the medical report from my bag. The words “tumor” stared back at me. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit me, a weariness that had been buried deep inside for so long. Now it was all crashing over me, suffocating me. The smell of dinner wafted in from the dining room, but all I felt was nausea. My name is Jessica Grant, the third child of the Grant family, the “new money” family in Chicago. But my position in the family has always been awkward. Unlike my older sister Amanda and my older brother Eric, who grew up with my parents, I was raised by my grandmother in rural Kentucky. Grandma Sarah didn’t care much for me. She made sure I had clothes to wear and food to eat, but beyond that, she was hands-off. When she had money, she’d go play Bingo, and when she lost, she’d take it out on me, shouting and berating me. Every time that happened, Aunt Karen, our neighbor, would come over and stop Grandma. She’d take me to her house and comfort me, just like a mom would in those TV shows. When I was eight, the Grants finally brought me back. On the car ride home, I couldn’t stop thinking—would my mom be as kind and gentle as Aunt Karen? But I was just a child then, too young to realize that if the Grants had truly cared about me, they wouldn’t have just sent a driver to pick me up. I’ll never forget my first day at the Grant Mansion. I stood there in the grand, elegant foyer, awkwardly tugging at a dress that didn’t fit right. I’ll also never forget how cold my mother’s gestures were and the way she looked at me, as if I were a burden. For over a decade, I tried so hard to win their approval, because I envied them. I wanted them to love me the way they loved each other. When I first received the diagnosis, it didn’t even register. The doctor’s words buzzed in my ears, but I couldn’t process them. The doctor, noticing my young age, suggested I call my family so we could discuss it together. It was like waking from a dream. I took out my phone and called my mother. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before going to voicemail. I swallowed, then tried calling my father. This time, the call was immediately declined. I felt like a robot as I tried dialing another number, but then my mother called back. I was so relieved when I answered, but the voice that came through wasn’t what I expected. “Stop calling so much. If you have something to say, text me. Your father and I are busy.” I didn’t know how to respond. Before I could say anything, she added, “And don’t call your brother or sister. They’re busy with important things.” Then the line went dead, and all I could hear was the beeping of the phone. I opened Instagram and scrolled through my brother Eric’s latest post. It was a picture of the four of them at a company event, smiling with the caption, “Family of four at the grand opening! Yay!” It was in that moment I realized: all my efforts, everything I had done to win them over, had been meaningless. Maybe we were never supposed to be a family in the first place. The doctor must have seen the look on my face, because he gave me a sympathetic smile. I forced a weak one back and told him I’d come back tomorrow. I made up my mind. I’d go back to the mansion, pack up my things, and leave. That place wasn’t my home. I sat in the chair for a moment, taking a deep breath before I started packing. Most of the things were mine anyway, things I had bought myself. It didn’t take long to pack up my suitcase. The only inconvenience was running into Eric on my way out. He raised an eyebrow at my suitcase, just like he always did. “What, you’re back? Going back to school already?” I nodded, trying to brush past him without engaging. He didn’t understand why I was being so cold. Normally, I’d be calling him ‘big brother’ and begging for his attention. Searching his memory, he thought he found the answer. “What’s your problem?” he said irritably. “We were busy this afternoon. That’s why we didn’t pick up the phone.” “I’m not mad,” I replied, gripping the handle of my suitcase tighter. I didn’t want to argue. I just wanted to leave. At that moment, Dad came over, noticing the tension between us. “What’s going on here?” he asked, frowning. “Nothing,” Eric said lazily, stepping toward Dad. My father scolded him lightly for not showing respect, but it was more indulgent than harsh. “She’s just having a little tantrum. Wants to run away from home, that’s all.” It wasn’t until then that Dad really looked at me, his eyes moving to the suitcase in my hand. His expression darkened. “If you leave, don’t bother coming back,” he said. And just like that, Amanda appeared, looking as put together and impatient as always in her tailored suit. “If you’re going to leave, then leave,” she said, her tone as cold as Eric’s. Amanda had never liked me. In her eyes, I was beneath the Grant family, too small-minded, too unpolished to belong. I checked my phone. My Uber had arrived. I nodded to the three of them and walked out, pulling my suitcase behind me. Leaving the Grant family wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

I didn’t go back to my dorm. It was too late, and the doors would be locked by now. Instead, I booked a room at a nearby hotel and crashed for the night. At some point, my roommate Amy called to ask how my medical tests went and if I was planning to come back to the dorm. I brushed off the first question and laughed, “Nah, it’s too late to head back now.” She wasn’t fully convinced, but she let it go after making me promise to text her in the morning. My mom also texted me, telling me that we’d have to “discuss my attitude” when I came home for break. I blocked her number. The hotel bed was cold, but it was also comfortable. I blocked the rest of the Grant family’s numbers too, then pulled the covers over my head and fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, I was eight years old again, meeting Amanda for the first time. She was so beautiful in her princess dress, and I wanted to talk to her, but she walked away without a word. It was like that for the next few days. I didn’t dare approach her directly, so I just followed from a distance. “Mom!” I saw Amanda run into our mother’s arms from the crack in the door. The way Mom smiled at her was nothing like the look she had given me on my first day at the mansion. Amanda pouted, “Jessica keeps trying to touch my clothes. I don’t want her to.” “She’s not allowed to touch my dresses,” Amanda added. Mom didn’t say anything, just patted Amanda’s head. Eric stood nearby, sulking. “She shouldn’t have come back. Why did you even bring her back, Mom?” “There was no choice,” Mom sighed. “Your grandma is sick.” I woke up in a cold sweat, sunlight streaming through the hotel window. I wiped my forehead and checked my phone. It was already the next morning. As I brushed my teeth, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Details from the dream flashed through my mind. I realized I had never forgotten those things; I had just buried them deep inside. Amanda and Eric had done well in school and gone off to top universities overseas. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents, so I studied hard and got into a good local college. Honestly, I preferred literature, but since my brother and sister chose science, I followed their path. My mother knew I was staying up late to study. She never encouraged me, just said, “Don’t bother trying to compete with your brother and sister.” Eric laughed when he found out. “You worked this hard and only got into that school?” I knocked on my head, trying to shake off the thoughts. When I arrived at the school office, the counselor noticed how pale I looked. “Not sleeping well?” he asked. “A little.” I wasn’t as strong as I used to be, especially after my diagnosis. I handed him the paperwork I had prepared. “I’m going to take some time off.” He glanced over the medical file and gave me the same look of sympathy the doctor had. As he signed the forms, he asked, “Do your parents know?” “They know.” I didn’t want to talk about it. Luckily, he didn’t press the issue. Before I left, he reminded me that my classmates would be waiting for me when I returned. To be honest, I hadn’t spent much time with my classmates this past year. They probably wouldn’t even remember my name. As I packed up my things from the dorm, my roommates came by to help. One of the more outgoing girls hesitated for a while before asking, “Is it because of your health?” “I overheard your conversation with the counselor…” Another one joined in, and soon three pairs of eyes were fixed on me. There was nothing to hide. I nodded and admitted it. One of them immediately teared up. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. I’m not dying anytime soon.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. I hadn’t known these girls for long, but their concern was already more than what I’d received from the Grant family. “Don’t say that!” one of them cried, putting her hand over my mouth. “That’s bad luck.” I promised to stay in touch, and the three of them helped carry my bags to the gate, tears still streaming down their faces. Why had I spent so long trying to earn the love of the Grants? I had saved up money to buy expensive gifts, memorized their favorite meals, and been their go-to listener when they were stressed. I tried so hard to be part of their world. But in just one year, my roommates had shown me more care than I’d ever received from my family. As I stood there, my phone buzzed again. It was my father’s secretary calling, but before he could even finish his sentence, I hung up. How could I have forgotten? My father never called me directly. Anything he needed was always passed through his secretary. I went through my phone again and deleted every contact related to the Grants. The doctor had recommended I go to Houston Medical Center, where they were better equipped to handle my type of tumor. I didn’t want to die just yet. That night, I booked a flight to Houston. The next day, with my diagnosis in hand, I flew to Houston alone and checked into the hospital. At Houston Medical Center, I underwent another round of tests. The tumor had spread, but it was still within manageable limits. They scheduled chemotherapy before surgery. Compared to others in the hospital, I was lucky. I had the money I’d saved over the years, and there was a good chance I could beat this cancer. From down the hall, I heard a woman’s anguished screams. The sound made me snap back to reality. Next to me sat a small girl, pale but with bright, curious eyes. She heard the crying too and instinctively scooted closer to me. The woman, disheveled with one shoe missing, burst into the exam room, grabbing the doctor by his collar. “Give me back my son’s life!” she screamed, her voice thick with sobs, acting like a madwoman.

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Have you ever used a mask that can transform your appearance? There are only three sheets in a box. Use one box, and all the acne and scars on your face disappear, leaving your skin flawless. Use two boxes, and your face becomes slimmer, your eyes bigger, and your nose more defined. What if you could use three boxes? Hehe, your face would be completely renewed, stunningly beautiful, just like… just like you’ve become a different person. Interested? DM me. I never thought Sophia’s face could change so quickly. Two days ago, when I visited her house, her face was swollen like a pig’s head due to an infection from plastic surgery. The housekeeper was still wiping pus from her face. But now, her skin was smooth and delicate, as white as porcelain. Even the twisted scars from the stitches were gone. Seeing my surprised expression, she explained, “I didn’t expect this product to be so miraculous either.” I wanted to ask what product it was, but I held back, knowing I couldn’t afford it anyway. Even though it should have been a happy occasion, Sophia still frowned, looking listless. Her mouth twitched slightly, and I couldn’t help but ask with concern, “Sophia, your mouth…” A flash of panic crossed her eyes as she covered her mouth, “Is it twitching?” I nodded. “Maybe the nerves were damaged during the previous surgery and haven’t fully recovered yet.” Just as I was about to comfort her, a small figure appeared on the second floor. “Miss Wilson, good afternoon.” Noah waved at me like an old bureaucrat. He was only 7 years old, but his gesture seemed oddly out of place.

I smiled at him as I walked towards the stairs, surveying my surroundings. Under the golden lights, classical music filled the vintage two-story mansion. Four gold-edged carpets were inlaid on the marble floor. A sandalwood tea table sat in the center of these carpets. The house was filled with the scent of sandalwood. Perhaps because I couldn’t appreciate this deep color scheme, I didn’t find it elegant or noble, but rather mysterious. I originally hadn’t planned to take this part-time job because it was a full 20 kilometers from my university. But Noah’s housekeeper, Aunt Lucy, had sought me out twice. “You look so quiet; you must have a good temper too.” “Noah has a bit of autism, so we wanted to find a gentle teacher.” The crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes moved up and down as she not only offered me double the pay but also promised to drive me to and from work every day. It would have been ungrateful to refuse at that point.

Noah’s bedroom-study was on the second floor. Despite being only 7 years old, he had an exceptionally strong ability to learn, grasping everything after just one lesson. And Aunt Lucy, who lived next door to him, would always bring fruit. I secretly rejoiced at how lucky I was. Not only did I teach a smart student, but I also got to enjoy all kinds of fruit. Noah often curled up in Aunt Lucy’s arms, seeming even closer to her than to his mother. Aunt Lucy would always comfort him, “Just hang in there a little longer, it’s almost time.” I thought her concern was unnecessary, as Noah didn’t seem to resist learning at all.

After finishing the lesson, Aunt Lucy drove me home as usual. Despite being nearly 60 years old, her driving was very steady. “Miss Wilson, do you have a boyfriend?” she asked. I looked at my acne-covered face in the car mirror and sighed. Seeing her crow’s feet directed at me, she said, “Your face is a minor issue. Even Sophia’s condition could be fixed.” My mind suddenly flashed to Sophia’s appearance, and I couldn’t help but ask what she had used. Aunt Lucy stared at the red light ahead, her mouth opening and closing, “A mask.” A mask? You’ve got to be kidding. In all my years, I’ve never heard of a mask that could fix a botched plastic surgery. I guess Aunt Lucy, at her age, probably hasn’t even used a face mask before. I didn’t pursue the topic and changed the subject, mentioning that Sophia seemed a bit down today. “If it weren’t for her cheating husband, she wouldn’t have gotten plastic surgery.” “She even hid it from me. It wasn’t worth the suffering.” Aunt Lucy looked very angry; I could tell she really cared for Sophia. As we reached the school gate, I caught sight of a familiar figure. It was Lucas. Aunt Lucy noticed me staring at him and gossiped, “Is this the boy Miss Wilson likes? He’s quite handsome.” I blushed as I got out of the car.

Lucas had been my secret crush for three years. I had even changed my college choice because of him. Not only was he academically excellent, but he was also very handsome. But he probably didn’t even know my name. Because I didn’t even have the courage to say hello. How I wished I could get rid of all this acne on my face and slim down my cheeks. But I didn’t have as much money as Sophia. Still, I thought that when I had the chance, I’d ask her what exactly she had used. Even if I couldn’t afford it now, I could save up, right? Unexpectedly, because final exams were coming up, I took three days off. When I saw Sophia again after those three days, I was shocked once more.

Her originally delicate and refined appearance had suddenly taken on an exotic beauty. Her round eyes had become European-style double eyelids, and her chubby nose had become straight and defined. There was no sign of swelling on her face. Could this also be due to that product? Seeing me arrive, she pulled me to sit on the sofa. “Rachel, I’m really upset.” I looked at her stunningly beautiful face, with a smile on her lips. I was completely confused. This expression didn’t look upset at all. But her large, blinking eyes were devoid of any sparkle. She murmured, “My husband is determined to divorce me.” “Sigh, everything has been in vain.” If it weren’t for her voice sounding truly sorrowful, I would have thought she was pretending. After speaking, she collapsed onto the sofa and stopped talking to me. I watched as her mouth and eye corners twitched along with her shoulders. I didn’t feel comfortable asking her about the product either. 6 Halfway through the lesson, I suddenly heard a loud crash. I instinctively rushed out of the room. Classical music echoed through the empty house, and Aunt Lucy stood at the door, staring wide-eyed at the floor below. As I approached, I saw Sophia lying face-up in a pool of blood, wearing a deep blue cheongsam. On the gold-edged carpet, she looked like a blooming blue rose. It was so sudden that I was stunned on the spot. Aunt Lucy cried out and ran downstairs, nearly falling. She checked Sophia’s breath and shook her head. From behind me came Noah’s childish voice, “911? 325 Green Hill Street. Someone has committed suicide.”

It took nearly an hour for the ambulance to arrive. Sophia had no external injuries but had died from asphyxiation due to a broken neck from the fall. The surveillance footage showed her walking up to the second floor in a daze, then smiling at the camera before jumping. It was initially determined to be suicide. Half an hour after the body was taken away, I finally started to recover a bit and quickly went to check on Noah. To my surprise, he wasn’t crying. Maybe because he was so young, he didn’t understand what death meant. But Aunt Lucy was crying uncontrollably. Between sobs, she said, “Why did you give up?” “If this man wasn’t good enough, couldn’t you have found another?” “How foolish, so foolish.” Aunt Lucy had taken care of the mother and son for six years. In her heart, Sophia must have been like a daughter to her. It was indeed difficult to accept this sudden loss. The police asked some questions. It was only then that I learned from Aunt Lucy that Sophia had been suffering from depression for a long time. Her husband’s insistence on divorce had been the last straw. The medical examiner asked Aunt Lucy to find the medication Sophia had been taking. She knelt on the ground and handed me a key, “Rachel, it’s over there. You go, I’m too upset.” She pointed to the storage room at the corner of the second floor.

There weren’t many things in the storage room, and it was very tidy. On the shelf nearest the door was a row of medicines. I couldn’t tell which was which, so I just cradled them all in my arms. As I was about to leave, I noticed a faint red glow coming from the opposite shelf. Curious, I took a closer look and saw it was a box of face masks. “Transformation Mask.” Could this be the product Sophia had used? The mask Aunt Lucy had mentioned? I wanted to take a closer look, but the police asked if I had found the medication. I hastily put it aside and rushed downstairs with the medicines. They were just ordinary antidepressants, nothing suspicious. The police asked Aunt Lucy to go to the station to give a statement. They told me to take Noah for a walk outside, fearing he might be scared. But Noah refused to leave, insisting on staying at home. I was scared too. One of the officers, probably seeing that I was quite young, volunteered to stay with us. I reluctantly agreed to stay.

With a pounding heart, I turned off the classical music. The photo of Sophia on the table sent chills down my spine. Surprisingly, she didn’t look young before the surgery. The tired face with deep nasolabial folds rivaled mine. I turned the frame face down and hurried upstairs to wait with Noah in his room. I had my bag ready, planning to leave as soon as Aunt Lucy returned. “Miss Wilson, you won’t be coming back anymore, will you?” Noah asked. Maybe he sensed my unease. I patted his head, “I’ll come back to see you when I have time, don’t worry.” I wasn’t in the mood to teach him, so I put on a cartoon for him on the computer. But he didn’t seem very interested. After a while, I couldn’t hold it anymore. “Noah, stay here for a bit. I need to use the bathroom.” To my surprise, as soon as I entered the bathroom, I saw that glowing box of masks next to the mirror.

For a moment, I forgot my fear and, as if possessed, looked at the back of the box. There was no ingredient list, only instructions for use. Step 1: Drop a drop of blood on the mask sheet. Step 2: Write down the effect you want to achieve with a red pen. Step 3: Apply for over 30 minutes and wait. Note: Each box can only be used for one type of modification. For example, types include: skin texture, facial features, bone structure. Using three boxes has a miraculous effect. I hastily stuffed it into my bag. Then I remembered I had left the key in the storage room, and I recalled there were two more boxes in there.

The faint red glow seemed so eerie. But as I touched my own furrowed face and thought of Sophia’s transformation, my heart stirred with desire. Sophia was quite generous; surely she wouldn’t mind if I used a few of her masks. Aunt Lucy probably wouldn’t remember how many boxes of masks Sophia had anyway. But wouldn’t this make me a thief? Besides, the owner had just died. It didn’t feel right to steal her things. I hesitated and put the mask down. But my mind was filled with memories of being disliked and mocked since childhood. No boys wanted to sit next to me in school. When I didn’t have money for the bus fare, no one was willing to help. Even the boy I had liked for three years probably didn’t know I existed. I gritted my teeth and grabbed the two boxes of masks, stuffing them into my bag. I hadn’t been paid for the past two weeks of part-time work anyway. Worst case, I’d forgo the money. If Aunt Lucy asked me, I’d just firmly deny knowing anything. I locked the door and wondered where to put the key. I didn’t dare go downstairs, but luckily, I saw that Aunt Lucy’s door was ajar.

I placed the key on her bedside table and accidentally discovered a faded photograph in her wallet on the desk. It showed a man and a woman who looked very well-matched. Strangely, the woman in the photo looked a bit like Sophia, but the photo was dated 30 years ago. I remembered Aunt Lucy saying that she saw Sophia as if she were looking at herself. This must have been Aunt Lucy when she was young. I never imagined she had been so beautiful in her youth. Aunt Lucy returned quickly. She seemed calmer than before. “Rachel, after what happened, I can’t drive you home today.” I clutched my bag, feeling relieved. As I was leaving, Noah wrung his hands, looking at me longingly.

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I’m a twin, and my mother hates the introverted me while favoring my lively and cute sister. She gives the best to my sister, raising her to be beautiful and adorable, while I’m treated more like a dog. Until one day, my mother called my sister’s name while looking at me. Suddenly, I saw hope, my eyes lighting up as I looked at my sister lying unconscious on the ground. I’ve been allergic to milk since I was little, but my mom works at a dairy factory, and breakfast is always just milk. My sister is allergic too. She breaks out in hives all over when she drinks it, but she never told mom to avoid upsetting her. My sister forces me to drink her share every day, so I’ve had red rashes on my face for years, which eventually left dark spots. Mom always calls me Freckle Face and doesn’t like how self-conscious and timid I am. She prefers my sister’s lively and cute personality. My sister hates me too because we have the same face, but mine is always covered in freckles, so she makes me cover my face with thick hair and a mask. She also makes me tell others that I’m allergic to dust and doesn’t let me admit that I’m her twin sister. At school, wherever my sister is, there’s laughter and admiration, but when I appear, even the liveliest scene instantly goes cold. They hate me, but no one wants to be the bad guy and say it out loud, so they choose to ignore me. My sister’s grades have always been good, all thanks to me cheating for her. Her grades are fake, but the admiration she gets is real. Beautiful and smart, my sister became the school belle, while I’m the school’s despised plague.

Coming home from school, I was suddenly kicked over while taking off my shoes in the entryway. He stepped on me twice, muttering about bad luck. This man is mom’s new boyfriend, a drunkard and a thug, but mom always fantasizes that he’ll give her a better life. Every time this thug comes to our house to see mom, he beats me up before leaving. I don’t know why, but he always seems particularly refreshed after beating me when he’s initially irritated. After finishing his cigarette, he flicked the butt into my collar. I frantically rolled against the wall, trying to get it out. He mocked me, saying I’m not even as good as a dog – at least other dogs would bark when bullied. But I just lower my head and stay silent when bullied. When dinner is ready, mom and my sister usually come home. I can only eat after they finish. Mom doesn’t want to eat leftovers, so I have to finish whatever they leave, which has made me fatter and uglier. I have no friends and no fixed room. I usually sleep in the attic, and sometimes when mom gets angry, she kicks me out. I sleep in the shed in the backyard. It’s big enough for me, and we’ve never actually kept a dog. One rainy day, Mrs. Wilson from next door saw me sleeping in the shed and kindly took me to her house to rest. I sat in her living room by the warm fireplace, listening to Mrs. Wilson tell stories while knitting. Mrs. Wilson is kind-hearted and often invites me over to play. She’s the only one who doesn’t despise me. I really wish she was my real grandmother. One day on my way home from school, a stone suddenly hit my head. I turned around to see a group of girls, with my sister in the middle. One of the girls said, “So, is she really a ghost? How come she doesn’t react when hit?” My sister stared at me and smiled, saying, “She’s Freckle Face. I’ve heard her mom call her that.” The group burst into laughter. I hugged my backpack tightly, wanting to run, but they surrounded me. They told me to drop out of school, saying they didn’t want to see such an unlucky person at school. I can’t drop out. I’ve been enduring everything just to stay in school, just to not leave this home. They threw my backpack into the river. Encouraged by the others, my sister stuck her chewing gum in my hair. It was dark when I finally got home, hugging my wet backpack. I didn’t dare go inside, so I went to Mrs. Wilson next door. Mrs. Wilson lit a fire for me again and helped bandage the wound on my head. I hugged her and cried, deeply moved. In this world, only Mrs. Wilson is so kind to me. Mrs. Wilson stroked my head and said that if she hadn’t said those things back then, maybe I wouldn’t be treated like this.

My crying stopped abruptly as I listened quietly to her talk about what happened after I was born. Before getting pregnant, my mom had been assaulted by a coworker at the factory, and then she had my sister and me with my dad. Mrs. Wilson discovered this and spread the news, instantly shattering the harmony in our family. My dad left, unable to bear the rumors, and my mom raised my sister and me alone. When I was five, Mrs. Wilson said in front of my mom that my sister looked more like our dad, both in temperament and appearance. From that moment, mom became convinced that I was the rapist’s child, while my sister was her child with dad. I asked Mrs. Wilson why she thought my sister looked more like dad. She said it was just a joke at the time, but she didn’t expect my mom to take it seriously. It was from that year on that mom started to despise me, treating me like an abandoned child. I asked Mrs. Wilson why she never thought to explain. She shook her head, saying she didn’t want to lose face. Because she didn’t want to lose face, Mrs. Wilson never explained her joke. She just watched me grow up like this. The next day, Mrs. Wilson passed away at home. Perhaps knowing her time was near, she told me those things the night before. I was the first to know about Mrs. Wilson’s death. She had a letter to send to her children. The letter wasn’t sent before she died, so I helped mail it out. Mrs. Wilson’s family, receiving the letter, thought she was still well and went on vacation worry-free. It wasn’t until a month later when they returned home that they saw Mrs. Wilson’s body. When I couldn’t go home, I often sat outside Mrs. Wilson’s house, not daring to go in or tell anyone. Until Mrs. Wilson’s disfigured body was carried away, and her house became empty. Mrs. Wilson had said she wanted to leave with dignity and cleanliness. I didn’t tell anyone she had died, until her body decomposed and maggots crawled over it. Let this be my little joke in return.

Without Mrs. Wilson’s companionship, my life seemed to get harder. Luke wanted to break up with mom. Mom quit her job, spending her days drinking and coming home late. As soon as mom gets home, she goes to the attic to beat me, saying it’s my bad luck that made Luke not want to see her anymore. The first time I saw mom cry was because of that thug Luke. The next day, I waited outside the bar where Luke usually hangs out. After waiting all night without seeing him come out, I was about to leave when I was kicked down again. Luke dragged me into an alley and beat me up. It was clear he had been in a bad mood lately because he hit harder than usual. As he was pulling open my collar, he saw the whiteness of my neck and suddenly became interested. “You little Freckle Face, your skin’s not bad. Let me see what it looks like inside,” Luke said as he tried to tear off my clothes. I got scared and frantically grabbed a tree branch, stabbing his eye and blinding it. Luke kicked me hard in anger. During the interval when he was howling and covering his eye, I quickly got up and ran. I had only come to find him to ask him to go see my mom and not make her sad anymore. I didn’t expect to blind his eye. Luke roared that he would kill me once his eye healed. I’m not afraid of him, but I’m scared of what mom would do if she found out. Would she kick me out for good? When I got home, I collapsed on the floor, clutching my stomach in pain. My sister and mom were home, but they didn’t care about me at all. In my daze, I felt like I was about to be beaten to death. It wasn’t until mom came home late at night and kicked me as she passed by that I woke up. I responded softly. Knowing I was still alive, mom seemed a bit disappointed. As she was about to go back to her room, I grabbed her foot. Like a dog that wouldn’t let go, no matter how much she kicked. “You little Freckle Face, you’re getting more and more annoying!” Mom said as she kicked me away, “You won’t be going to school next year. As long as Zoey gets into Harvard, we’ll move to another city.” At that time, they’ll abandon me, right? I don’t want to be abandoned. Before next year comes, I need to do something for myself.

I pushed open Zoey’s door. Seeing me, she threw a book at me in annoyance. I picked up the book from the floor and smiled at Zoey, saying, “I can help you cheat and get the top grade in the year.” Zoey was a bit skeptical. In previous exams, my guessing of questions at most helped her rank in the top fifty of the year. “With the top grade in the year, you can get early admission to Harvard. When you do, please ask mom to let me continue school.” Hearing my offer, Zoey smiled and casually agreed. I left Zoey’s room and started studying hard, looking forward to the day I could change my fate. During the school fair, I was assigned to wear a mascot costume and hand out flyers. The hot weather almost gave me heatstroke. A group of basketball players rushed by, and I was about to lose my balance when suddenly a guy grabbed my hand. It was Jack from the school basketball team, sunny and handsome, liked by many girls. After steadying me, he was worried I might get heatstroke, so he specially bought a bottle of water and handed it to me. I stammered a thank you. He said, “Your voice sounds really nice.” He smiled, curiously trying to peek at what the girl under the mascot looked like. I remembered how everyone at school despised me and got scared, immediately sitting down on the ground. If he found out I was the unlucky ghost of the school, he would be very disappointed, right? Thinking this, I immediately ran away, avoiding him. I hadn’t finished handing out the flyers when the girls from my class locked me in a bathroom stall. I was still daydreaming about Jack’s smile when I was suddenly awakened by a bucket of dirty water. As the sound of laughter gradually faded away, I curled up on the toilet, quietly waiting for someone to find me the next day. Surprisingly, the door opened after just a few minutes. It was a girl with a bruised face. I was puzzled why she didn’t show any disgust when she looked at me. Her name was Ava. She said she was also bullied by them, so she was willing to help me. “What’s your name?” My name is Zoe, Zoe Xu. Apart from Mrs. Wilson, Ava was the first person to call me by my name. “Zoe, you should stand up straight, keep yourself clean, lose some weight, and get rid of the freckles on your face.” Those are dark spots, they can’t be removed. “How can they not be removed? Have you really tried everything to do it?” I looked up at her in confusion. She blinked her big eyes, still bruised, flashing with energy. I hadn’t tried everything to get myself out of this mire. But after hearing Ava’s words, I was motivated to make some changes.

I stopped obediently eating all the leftovers. I would secretly pour away the milk Zoey made me drink, and I started learning ways from the internet to gradually remove the spots on my body. One day, while Zoey was eating breakfast, she told me to drink her milk as usual. I agreed readily, but she suddenly insisted on watching me drink it. I was in the recovery period of treating my rashes, and if I continued to drink the milk I was allergic to, it would all be in vain. “If you want to get the top grade, don’t always force me to do things.” Zoey was silent for a moment, then smiled and stuck her chewing gum in my hair. She said, “I do need you to help me get the top grade in the year, but that doesn’t give you the right to negotiate with me.” Zoey knows how to please mom and make everyone like her, so she’s always been able to act with impunity. As for me, I looked at the milk, more determined than ever to change everything. From then on, I would get up at five every morning to jog and lose weight, then do homework and practice questions. Sometimes I’d be so focused I’d forget to make breakfast. Mom, hungover, would angrily beat me. The mother and daughter duo would insult and mock me in turns. They laughed at me for paving the way for someone else’s future. I was shocked and grabbed Zoey, asking, didn’t she promise to speak up for me and let me continue school? Zoey pushed me away in disgust, saying even if she spoke up, mom wouldn’t let me continue school, but if I didn’t keep helping her, I wouldn’t even have a home. We’re twins, both mom’s children, yet I have to beg just to have a home. I’m not resigned to this.

After the midterm exams, the school would conduct a monthly test. This time, my assigned seat was right behind Zoey. This way, I didn’t need to guess the questions, I could directly pass the answers to Zoey during the exam. For seven consecutive exams, Zoey managed to copy all the answers I gave her without a hitch. On the day the results came out, I stared at Zoey’s name, nervously scanning down the list until I finally saw Zoey’s name at the twentieth position. Zoey was surrounded by everyone, with praise and admiration rising and falling. Zoey was very happy at the center of attention. While I, in the corner, secretly glanced at Zoe’s name. Zoe’s grades were in the top fifty of the year. Zoe, that’s pretty good too. In the following exams, Zoey’s ranking gradually rose, and everyone admired Zoey’s beauty and talent. She also gradually lost some of her humble facade in this game of fame and fortune. Until the last monthly test, Zoey had reached third in the year. With Zoey’s grades improving dramatically, her classmates and friends all wanted to ask her for help with their studies. She was usually poor in her studies and couldn’t answer any of their questions. She brushed them off, preferring to talk with the boys who blindly admired her rather than explaining to her friends why she wouldn’t teach them. Gradually, Zoey lost her close friends and was left with only a group of admirers circling around her. I enjoyed watching the girls gossip about her, spreading rumors and slandering her from the corner. I was a bit happy. Now we were like twin sisters both disliked. But Zoey would still arrogantly throw books at my head. She was very angry, “Now all the girls in the class are targeting me. Is this the benefit of being top of the year?” I consoled her, “You should be more humble. They don’t like you being too showy and proud.” Zoey picked up the book and hit me again. “It’s all because of you! Now they’re spreading rumors that I’m a fraud, that I’m a slut who seduced teachers for grades.” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but feel happy, because I was the one who took the photos that sparked the rumors. It was a scene of a teacher talking to Zoey, but with a slight misalignment in the shot, it created a photo that could be misunderstood. Zoey is so beautiful, it’s normal for her to be favored by teachers, but I didn’t make them spread such extreme rumors. Seeing me smirking, Zoey grabbed my hair fiercely and said, “What are you laughing at? You think this makes you more like me?” She said if it was discovered that I deliberately set her up, I would be dead. “Don’t you think we’re becoming more and more like sisters?” Zoey looked at me with disdain, “Are you worthy of being my sister? You’re just the daughter of a rapist. But, to be like me, you have to drag me down, to make me as dirty and despicable as you?” She was despising the meanness in my thoughts, but wasn’t she the one who led the bullying against me, breaking that window of human nature?

For the final exams, the school leaders started strict inspections. Zoey, caught in the whirlwind of rumors, was called to the office for questioning. To test if Zoey’s grades were real, the leaders had her complete several difficult test papers in front of all the teachers. After a morning of repeated grading by the teachers, Zoey’s test papers were almost all perfect scores, confirming her true academic ability. And the one who made all this happen was me. It was me who took Zoey’s identity to do the test papers. The rumors about Zoey cheating were temporarily suppressed. Without the gossip, Zoey was very happy. I was happy too, because on this day when I substituted for Zoey, I didn’t have to lower my head or hide behind thick hair. Previously, when we knew there would be an inspection by the leaders, Zoey had stayed up all night at her desk. But cramming for a few days couldn’t make up for all the knowledge. Besides, Zoey had never liked studying since she was little. With an invisible sister helping her cheat, why would she waste time studying? When the lie was about to be exposed, when the high pedestal supporting her was about to collapse. She finally agreed to let me take her place and take the test for her.

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After the breakup. Nauseous and with no appetite, I called my ex. I cautiously said, “I’m pregnant.” My ex scoffed, “Lily Anderson, we’ve been broken up for a year and three months.” I nodded, “I never said the child was yours.” Ex: “…” Early in the morning, I felt like throwing up before I even had breakfast. It had been like this for several days in a row. I didn’t know if I had eaten something wrong. Looking pale, I leaned against the wall as I walked out of my room, startling my roommate Emily Watson. She hurried over to help me sit down. “You’re nauseous again?” “Nothing’s coming up, but I feel awful.” Emily poured me a glass of warm water. “When was your last period?” I curled up on the sofa, feeling sick. “I can’t remember. Besides, my periods are always irregular. Why are you asking?” Emily suddenly gripped my shoulders, her expression unusually serious. “Lily, I strongly suspect you’re pregnant!” I looked at her in horror. “Don’t… don’t say that!” “Really, all five of my sisters had morning sickness like this. I’m too familiar with it! But aren’t you single? Have you been hiding a secret boyfriend?” At that moment, I was at a loss. No, it should be him— My ex-boyfriend, James Sullivan! Two months ago, on my birthday, I didn’t want to celebrate. I went out for a late-night walk and somehow ended up outside James’s apartment. Coincidentally, James was drunk that night, and some girls were fighting over who would take him home! I rushed over immediately. Claiming to be his girlfriend, I chased them all away. I carried the completely drunk James upstairs, and then things got heated, and some indescribable things happened! Afterwards, I ran away, feeling guilty. Because I was the one who broke up with James, vowing never to appear in front of him again. How could I go back on my word and slap my own face? “Lily, you must talk to the father of the child. After all, he has a responsibility too. Being a single mom isn’t easy, especially for a child growing up in a single-parent family…” Emily didn’t continue. Because I grew up in a single-parent family. Without a father, I faced a lot of judgment from a young age, and my mom went through so many hardships raising me alone. My eyes welled up with tears, and I felt incredibly low. Suddenly, I felt very lost about the future. “Lily, don’t panic. Maybe I’m wrong! Why don’t you go to the hospital for a check-up? The hospital is just next to our neighborhood.” Emily comforted me while glancing at her watch. She exclaimed, “Oh no, I’m going to be late!” “Lily, you rest at home first. I’ll come back at noon to take you to the hospital!” Before she finished speaking, Emily had already rushed out the door. After agonizing at home for half a day. I finally called for delivery and bought a few pregnancy tests. Five minutes later, they all showed two lines!

After a quick touch-up, I appeared at the hospital next door, with a pregnancy test stick in my pocket. For the sake of the child, I put aside my damn pride. James’s office was right in front of me, but I just couldn’t take a step forward. How could I just go up and tell him that two months ago, we slept together, and now I’m pregnant! No, I couldn’t say it! “Excuse me!” A cleaning lady pushing a cart came by. I hurriedly stepped back, accidentally bumping open the door behind me, stumbling a few steps before steadying myself. Plop. The pregnancy test stick fell out of my pocket. I was about to bend down when a doctor in a white coat picked it up for me. He looked at it and asked, “Is this yours?” This office was James’s! I averted my gaze, putting down my appointment slip. To talk things through with James, I had specifically made an appointment with him as a specialist. “Um, I’m pregnant.” James was stunned for a full five seconds, then he chuckled sarcastically, “Lily Anderson, we’ve been broken up for a year and three months.” I forced a slight smile, wanting to laugh, but the smile quickly faded. “I never said the child was yours.” James raised an eyebrow, his eyes flashing with a cold light, “So why did you make an appointment with me? Do you want me to congratulate you?” “We parted on good terms, won’t you congratulate me?” My face was expressionless. But inside, I was cursing myself a thousand times. I came here intending to explain everything, but I just couldn’t help being stubborn! “Con-grat-u-lations!” James stared at me intently, these two words squeezed out from between his teeth. I lowered my head, “I’ll let you know about the baby shower later.” “…Please leave, I have many patients waiting!” James was so angry he was rubbing his temples, the pen in his hand about to snap. I didn’t dare to say anything more. But after just a few steps, my stomach churned. I covered my mouth and ran to the sink in the office, dry heaving, but nothing came up. I leaned against the wall weakly, sliding down. Suddenly, a large hand caught me. James led me behind a curtain where there was a recliner, probably where he took naps. He told me to rest for a while. Then he went back to the other side of the curtain to see patients. After the patient left, James suddenly asked, “Lily Anderson, where’s the baby’s father?” Outside the window, warm sunlight streamed in. I hadn’t slept well last night, and now, resting on a pillow that smelled like James, I felt drowsy. “He… he’s dead.”

In my heart, the James who belonged to me was already dead. I slept on the recliner for a while. When I woke up, the office was quiet. I called out “James” a few times but got no response. When I pulled back the curtain, I found that James had left. I smiled bitterly. This was probably for the best, saving us both from awkwardness. So I got up to leave. Otherwise, I’d be seen as ungrateful. “James.” Just as I was about to open the door, I heard a voice from outside. I froze in fear, my heart racing. Instinctively, I looked for a place to hide. Just as I hid behind the curtain, the door was pushed open and a woman walked in: “James, Mom brought you lunch.” “Oh, not here?” Mrs. Sullivan sat down, habitually helping to tidy up the things on the desk: “My, the sun is so strong today.” Saying this, she got up to close the curtains. This made me, hiding behind the curtains, hold my breath, panicking. If I came out now, there would be no way to explain, and she never liked me anyway! Just as Mrs. Sullivan grabbed the curtain— “Mom, don’t close the curtains, it’s fine like this.” Thankfully, James returned just in time. Mrs. Sullivan turned around, “Where did you go?” “Why did you bring two portions of food? The cafeteria food isn’t good. I had some free time today, so I made you something delicious. Eat quickly, before it gets cold.” James gave a noncommittal “Mm” and said, “Mom, if you have something to do, you can go.” “What could I possibly have to do?” Mrs. Sullivan sat down in the chair: “Tell me, didn’t your aunt introduce you to that music teacher last time? How’s it going?” “Mom, I’m eating.” “What’s wrong with eating? You can talk while eating.” “What do you want me to say?” I could clearly hear that James was getting impatient, but Mrs. Sullivan kept nagging: “She’s very satisfied with you, but you’re just cold towards her, not even replying to her messages. How can you be so impolite?” “I already replied that I was busy. She’s the one who keeps sending messages non-stop. Who’s being impolite?” “But you can’t just…” “Mom, get up.” “What’s wrong?” James spoke while pushing Mrs. Sullivan towards the door: “I’m full now, I need to take a nap. I have a surgery this afternoon.” With that, he closed the door. Mrs. Sullivan grumbled a few more words in the corridor before leaving. Swoosh— James pulled the curtain open directly. I waved awkwardly, “How did you know I was hiding here?” James looked at me deeply. “I know all your little tricks, don’t I?”

I waved my fist at James’s back. To my surprise, there was a full-length mirror in front of me! James, walking in front of me, could see my little gesture clearly in the reflection! He sat down speechless and opened the other two lunch boxes. “Eat.” Although it was food I liked, I had no appetite at all. I waved my hand, “No need, I don’t want to eat.” James frowned, “Wait for me to come back.” “Hey…” Before I could speak, he had already turned and left. In the blink of an eye, James returned with a jar of preserved plums in his hand: “Eat some of these.” My eyes lit up, and I quickly took them. This was exactly what I needed! “Thank you.” I ate two preserved plums directly, then handed the jar back to James: “I’ll go buy some myself later. I’m leaving now.” As I reached the door, I couldn’t help but pause: “James, if she’s a good girl, I suggest you try to get along with her.” “You need to move on so others can get close to you.” Afraid that James would argue, I hurried away as soon as I finished speaking. After leaving the hospital, I didn’t contact James again. I even deliberately took detours, continuing my daily routine between home and work. Only at night did I have trouble sleeping. I gently placed my hand on my still-flat stomach. Feeling a small life quietly growing inside. “Baby, what should I do?” I knew well that single-parent families are not easy, neither for the mother nor the child, but I really couldn’t bear to give up the baby. Ring ring ring! I fumbled around for a while before finding my phone. It was my mom calling! “Hello, Mom?” “Have you been very busy lately? You never call home.” Hearing the sounds from my mom’s end, I knew she must be preparing some roasted meats, ready to deliver door-to-door later. My mom’s roasted meats are delicious, so she started a small business selling them. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” My mom stopped what she was doing. Hearing my mom’s voice, I suddenly realized it had been over a year since I’d been home. My eyes stung with tears: “Mom, I…” “What’s wrong? Did that manager bully you again? Sweetie, if you don’t want to work there anymore, just quit. Come back home, we can work together selling roasted meats. Business will definitely boom!” My mom’s words made me laugh, but inexplicably, I felt more like crying. “It’s not that, Mom, I…” Probably hearing the choke in my voice, my mom became anxious on the other end of the phone: “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Tell me quickly, do you want to worry your mother to death?” “I… I’m pregnant, but the baby’s father doesn’t know.”

There was a long, long silence on the other end of the phone, so long that I thought my mom had hung up, before her voice came through: “You need to tell him about this.” “If he doesn’t want it, Grandma wants it.” “When the time comes, you give birth and leave the baby with me, I’ll raise it for you.” I tightly covered my mouth, but tears kept falling. Indeed, in this world, only mom is the best. Hearing my crying, my mom sighed, “Sweetie, we women go through difficulties, but we overcome them. There’s nothing we can’t get through, you know?” “Mm…” I wiped my tears messily: “Mom, thank you.” “Silly child, what are you thanking me for? I’m your mom, of course I’ll help you.” Hearing that my mom was crying too, I felt even worse. When I initially chose to come to the big city alone to make a living, I wanted to earn big money so my mom could have a comfortable retirement. But after more than three years, not only have I achieved nothing, I’m also making her worry about me. I cried for a long time, but my mom composed herself first. “Don’t cry anymore, get some sleep. Mom still has to deliver roasted meats to people now, to earn milk money for my grandchild.” My mom deliberately joked to cheer me up. “Mm, go ahead with your work.” After hanging up the phone, I looked at the bright moon and stars, taking a deep breath. I felt much lighter. Because mom is always the strongest pillar behind me! I told Emily my decision. Emily was surprised but also happy for me: “You’ve thought it through?” “Yes, although it’s said that children from single-parent families have a harder time growing up, thinking carefully, the love my mom gave me from childhood was no less than children with both parents. So if my mom could do it, I’m sure I can do it too. Moreover, my baby will have a grandmother to dote on them!” I rubbed my belly, suddenly feeling less lost about the future. Emily strongly agreed with my words. “So are you planning to quit your job and go back?” “Anyway, I’ve worked diligently at this lousy company for over three years, and forget about promotion, I haven’t even gotten a raise. Why should I stay?” “Hearing you say that, I want to quit too.” “Quit, find someone to marry! Turn around and work at home, without even getting paid.” “Haha, then I’d better continue being a wage slave!” We laughed and chatted for a while, then Emily suddenly looked reluctant: “When exactly are you going back home? I want to treat you to a nice meal.” “I’ve already submitted my resignation letter, it should take about a month before I can leave.” “But you’re so capable, will your boss be willing to let you go?” “I’ll just tell him I’m pregnant, see if that doesn’t scare him to death.” “Haha, he’ll have you carried out in a sedan chair right away!” But after laughing, we both fell silent.

On the weekend. Emily insisted on accompanying me to the hospital for a check-up. She held my arm tightly, feeling a bit sad: “After you go back, I don’t know if I’ll have the chance to see you again.” “How could there be no chance? As long as we’re both alive, we’ll definitely meet again! Besides, when my baby has their first-month celebration, you’d better come!” “Oh, no matter what, as the baby’s godmother, I must accompany you for the check-up.” I couldn’t argue with her, so I had to let her come along. In my heart, I prayed we wouldn’t run into James! As a result, James came walking towards us, but he only glanced at me briefly before quickly walking towards the emergency room. “That’s James!” Emily was obviously very surprised. I turned my face away: “Is it? I didn’t see.” “What do you mean? You saw him before I did.” Emily looked gossipy: “You’ve been broken up for over a year, you’re not still thinking about him, are you? Why don’t you tell him about your pregnancy and see how he reacts?” “The baby is his.” “What!? You!” I calmly told Emily about what happened three months ago: “But he doesn’t believe it, so you don’t need to find him.” Emily fell completely silent, hugging me comfortingly. She sighed: “I never thought James would be such a jerk!” I shook my head: “It’s not entirely his fault.” After all, that night, I was half-willing. There were many pregnant women coming for check-ups. Emily and I found a place to sit and wait, but Emily couldn’t sit still and wandered around. She came back and told me: “Some pregnant women came very early, next time we should come earlier.” I smiled, next time I should be doing check-ups at the hospital back home. Ring ring ring! A phone call came in, and Emily had to go back for overtime work. She looked very apologetic: “Lily, I’m so sorry, my boss is really terrible!” “It’s okay, I understand. Go quickly.” I’ve encountered this kind of thing many times, even once when I had just fallen asleep and was called back for a meeting, too many times to count. The life of a working person is just bitter. But soon, I’ll be free! After waiting for more than an hour, it was finally my turn to go in for the check-up. The doctor frowned, making me anxious. “Doctor, what’s wrong?” “Did you come for the check-up alone?” “Yes, they’re all very busy.” “No matter how busy, someone should take care of you and accompany you for prenatal check-ups. Because your situation is a bit special, if not careful, you could easily miscarry.” The doctor sighed and shook his head. My heart tightened, and I suddenly felt very panicked. “I’m here.” James suddenly appeared.

“Oh, so the baby’s father is Dr. Sullivan!” The doctor who was examining me was very surprised, then his expression became more serious as he explained my condition to James in detail. After listening, James’s handsome face was tense. “Okay, I know what to do.” “It’s fortunate that Dr. Sullivan is your husband. With him around, the baby will surely be born healthy and safe.” The doctor smiled. For me, I didn’t know whether to smile or worry. Because I was going to leave soon. Seeing that I had been silent since coming out of the consultation room, James thought I was too worried about the baby. “If there’s anything you don’t understand, or if you feel unwell, call me anytime.” I lowered my eyes and pursed my lips: “Thank you.” “But I think I can take care of myself.” James stopped talking and just walked me to the hospital entrance. After walking a distance, I couldn’t help but look back and saw James still standing there. But I’m a bit nearsighted and couldn’t see his expression clearly. I couldn’t help waving at him, silently saying in my heart: James, farewell, mountains high and roads long, who knows when we’ll meet again, take care. Then I turned and left. Since my mom found out I was pregnant, she’s been video calling me every day, reminding me to eat meals on time and drink soup every day. On this day, I was walking home when I received another video call from my mom. I answered, holding a box with one hand: “Mom, I’ve already bought the high-speed rail ticket. The day after tomorrow at 8 am, I should arrive around 4 pm.” “Look, I’ve packed up everything from my company, just one box.” My mom frowned, looking a bit worried. “Why didn’t you buy a plane ticket? You’ll have to eat a meal on the high-speed rail, and the boxed meals there are expensive and not tasty.” “You can order takeout on high-speed rails now.” “Alright, I won’t talk to you anymore. Don’t look at your phone while walking on the street, what if you bump into someone? I’ll talk to you later.” My mom hung up before finishing her sentence. I couldn’t help but laugh. Just as I looked up, I almost bumped into someone. But this person was James, who had deliberately stood in front of me, his face not looking very good: “You resigned? You’re going back to your hometown?” This was obvious, and I had no need to hide it. “Yes, there’s no point in staying here anyway.” James’s face looked even worse. But I ignored him and walked straight ahead. Unexpectedly, James caught up and blocked my way, his expression extremely serious: “Lily Anderson, how did the baby’s father die?” At that moment, I really almost couldn’t keep a straight face! Fortunately, I bit my teeth hard to keep from laughing. I deliberately put on a cold face, staring at him coldly: “Why are you asking this? It seems to have nothing to do with you, right?” “He really died?” James persisted, determined to get an answer. This was something I made up on the spot, how could I answer? So I refused to respond. I moved to the right, James followed to the right. I moved to the left, James continued to follow to the left, determined not to let me leave. I was very helpless: “What do you really want?”

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My husband watched me miscarry while he was in the car with his new love. When he tried to reach out to me afterward, I told him that unless he was a vegetable, I wasn’t interested. A year later, I read in the news that he had, in fact, become a vegetable. When I lost my baby in the car accident, my world shattered into a million irreparable pieces. I was drowning in a sea of despair, but Milton was nowhere to be found. He happened to be driving by, his sleek car a glimmering facade under the late afternoon sun. I caught a glimpse of him through the chaos, his lips locked in a passionate embrace with his female assistant, her laughter ringing like a cruel mockery in my ears as they waited for the traffic light. Our eyes met for a fleeting second—his filled with indifference, mine bursting with unfiltered pain. And then, without so much as a flicker of recognition, he sped off, leaving me stranded in the wreckage of my life. The world around me faded, the sirens and screams drowned out by the deafening silence of betrayal. That same night, while the shadows danced around me in the bedroom, I stumbled upon something crumpled in the corner of our bed—a thong. Red, lacy, and unmistakably not mine. My heart tightened as I held it between my trembling fingers, the fabric a cruel confirmation of the truth I had tried to ignore. My marriage, once a sanctuary, had become a web of deceit—a lie that ensnared my heart in a suffocating grip. In that moment, clarity washed over me like a tidal wave, pushing away the remnants of denial. I could feel the storm inside me churning, but I forced my voice to remain steady as I reached for my phone. “Mr. Janathan, I’ve made up my mind,” I said, my voice unwavering, even as fury and heartache roiled within. “I can start at your company.” “That’s wonderful news! ” His enthusiasm on the other end of the line was a stark contrast to the numbness that enveloped me. The second I hung up, Milton emerged from the bathroom He used to take five-minute—quick, efficient, just like everything else in his life. But lately, it was different. Half an hour, sometimes more. Always with his phone in hand, as if he couldn’t bear to be disconnected from whatever affair was consuming him. “Who were you talking to?” he asked, eyes glued to his phone, his voice so casual it stung.

“Mr. Janathan,” I replied, my tone deliberately detached, a mask over the tumult inside me. “Ah,” he mumbled, his eyes glued to his phone, absorbed in a world that no longer included me. With a steely calmness, I opened my phone and began drafting my resignation letter. Each tap of my finger felt like a finality, sealing the fate of a life I had once thought was secure. It was only when he reached for his water cup, expecting the rich, fragrant coffee I used to brew for him every night, that he finally noticed something was amiss. The cup sat empty. He paused, confusion flickering across his features, and then his gaze shifted to me—really looked at me, as if he were seeing a ghost materialize in the dim light of our shared misery for the first time in months. “I consulted a specialist,” he said, his tone dripping with nonchalance, as if offering me a peace treaty. “He said it’s just a minor injury, nothing serious.” A minor injury? The words echoed in my head, taunting me. I turned away, my eyes glued to my phone, fingers trembling as I typed. The resignation letter was nearly finished, each word a stepping stone away from him, from this life, from the wreckage of our love. “Alright,” I replied flatly, refusing to meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his presence suffocating me. That afternoon, I found myself lying on a cold hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to the air like an unwanted reminder of my shattered dreams. I was numb and exhausted, the physical pain eclipsed by the emotional turmoil churning within me. Ten stitches across my abdomen. But the real pain was something no amount of sutures could fix. I had just found out I was pregnant—a few weeks along, a fragile flicker of life that now felt like a cruel joke. The doctor’s voice was gentle, heavy with an apology I didn’t want to hear. “If you had been brought to the hospital sooner, the baby might have been saved,” he said, his words slicing through me like a surgeon’s scalpel. Milton’s brow furrowed as he took in my expression, his concern momentarily breaking through the wall of indifference he had built around himself. But just then, his phone buzzed, an insistent vibration that shattered the fragile moment between us. He glanced at the screen, a flicker of anxiety crossing his features before he turned away.

The man who had once vowed to be my partner, my rock, was now a ghost, lost in the labyrinth of his own desires. My heart ached—not just for the baby I had lost, but for the love I had thought we shared, now reduced to a mere shadow of what could have been. His lips curved into a familiar smile—the kind I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. It was warm, inviting, and utterly deceptive, like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. Without a second thought, he turned away, completely forgetting I even existed in the room. As soon as he was out of sight, I unlocked my phone and opened my secret social media account, a portal to the world he thought I couldn’t access. My heart pounded in my chest like a war drum. I scrolled through his feed, each post a dagger that twisted deeper into my heart. Pictures of him laughing, carefree, his arm draped around a woman . She looked vibrant, alive—everything I felt I had lost. With each photo, I felt the walls closing in, the room around me fading into darkness. My fingers trembled as I navigated through the snapshots of his life, a life I had once shared but was now an outsider to. And there it was, a new post. “I shouldn’t have let my love wait.” The words blurred as my vision narrowed, the bright screen becoming a twisted reflection of my reality. He could spare his assistant an apology for a dinner delay, but not a single ounce of regret for the child we had just lost. The notification from Mr. Janathan buzzed on my phone almost simultaneously as Milton walked into the room, a cruel twist of fate. The contract. I clicked the link and signed it without a second thought, sealing my decision to leave this life behind, as if closing the door on a nightmare. The next morning, Milton woke up earlier than usual, which caught me off guard. His routine had been predictable, his presence almost like a ghost haunting the remnants of our home. But today felt different. He returned with pastries, their sweet aroma wafting through the air, an unsettling contrast to the storm brewing inside me. He placed the bag on the table, and as I reached to open it, his hand shot out, slapping mine away with an unexpected force that took my breath away. “You like blueberry butter cookies, right?” he said, his voice unnervingly casual, the kind of nonchalance that stung like a slap. “I got one just for you.” For a moment, time froze. I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. Blueberry butter cookies? For me? They weren’t for me. They were for his precious Alice Winson. “Seven years, Milton,” I said, my voice trembling with restrained fury, each word dripping with the weight of my pain. “Seven years, and you still don’t know I’m allergic to blueberry?” I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked by a defensive shrug. “It’s just a cookie, Sara. —” He froze, his hand suspended midway to his cup of coffee, caught in a moment that felt like a lifetime. I could feel the weight of his annoyance pressing down on me. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a sound that echoed my turmoil. His voice was cold and biting, cutting through the air like glass. “Stop making a fuss.”

The words hung there, heavy and mocking, a dismissal that burned in my chest. “OK,” I shot back, the words sharp and deliberate, “tell your girlfriend not to leave this on my bed anymore.” Milton’s brows knitted together, confusion flashing across his face as he took the bag from me, the tension coiling tighter between us. When he peeked inside and saw the lace thong, the color drained from his face, and for a split second, shock etched every feature. It was as if the truth had slapped him, the reality of his betrayal suddenly laid bare. But then he met my calm, indifferent expression—one that didn’t seek further lies, . For the first time, I saw him hesitate, the facade flickering like a dying flame. “I’ll tell her to stop being so careless,” he said, his voice cool. Sensing the shift in my mood, Milton offered, almost offhandedly, “I can buy you something else for breakfast today.” I blinked, stunned, the words hanging in the air like a cruel joke. Seven years. Seven long years together, and not once—not once—had he ever brought me breakfast in bed, or even suggested sharing a morning meal. But Alice? His precious assistant? On her very first day, she was already receiving the kind of attention and care I had yearned for, a privilege I’d never been afforded. As I stood there, the realization twisted like a knife in my gut, he was already at the door, back to me, his hand gripping the handle as if it were a lifeline. He didn’t even bother to turn around, didn’t care enough to face me. “Something urgent came up at the office. You should feed yourself,” he muttered, his voice flat, devoid of warmth or empathy. Half an hour later, I limped into my cubicle. My colleagues greeted me with an unsettling mix of sympathy and concern, their gazes lingering just a moment too long, as if they could see the cracks in my façade. I couldn’t help but overhear two coworkers talking in hushed voices, their words slicing through the air with cruel precision. “So it’s true—Milton really ditched Sara for his assistant?” one of them asked, disbelief mingling with gossip. “Yep! You should’ve seen it this morning! Alice comes in, says she’s got a headache, and Milton swoops in, picks her up right there in the lobby, in front of everyone,” the other replied, laughter tinged with malice. My hand slipped, and the mug shattered on the floor with a deafening crash, silencing their gossip. I crouched down, the cool tile pressing against my knees, and gathered the piece. Each shard felt like a betrayal, sharp and jagged, cutting deeper into the already festering wound that was my marriage. I ended up working late, the office nearly empty as the hours dragged on, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead like the heartbeat of a dying relationship.

“Sara,” Milton muttered, his voice low and too close, his breath brushing against my ear like an unwelcome ghost. He draped his coat over me, an attempt at warmth that felt more like a shackle. “Why didn’t you respond to my messages?” I didn’t bother turning around. Instead, I glanced at my phone, the screen glowing with his latest message: [What flavor of dessert do you usually like?] A bitter laugh threatened to escape as I stared at the words on my phone. I had asked him for desserts once, back in the early days of our marriage. His response still echoed in my mind, sharp and cruel, like a slap across my spirit: “Desserts? You want me to buy desserts for you? Don’t make me sick with this childish crap!” Now, the same man was pretending to care, clutching a small box of desserts in his hands as if it were a peace offering. How laughable. The very sight of it made my stomach turn, a mix of sweet nostalgia and bitter resentment churning violently within me. I ignored the sweet scent wafting from the box, its sugary aroma a stark contrast to the bitterness coating my tongue. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the stack of papers in front of me, focusing on the mundane details of my work as if they could shield me from the chaos swirling around us. I could feel his confusion hanging in the air, a palpable shift that weighed down the space between us. His voice broke the silence again, soft but edged with uncertainty. “Sara, I don’t understand. I thought… I thought you’d appreciate this.” “I get a stomachache from desserts now,” I replied, dismissive, my tone as flat as I could make it. Then, his voice dropped, colder than before. “Let’s go home together after,” he muttered, the command hanging between us like a guillotine poised to drop. Barely thirty seconds after he walked away, Milton’s phone lit up on my desk. The brightness pierced through my cloud of thoughts, and I glanced at the screen—Alice’s name flashed like a neon sign, a mocking reminder of his betrayal. The message blinked at me, tauntingly innocent: [Nobody sends a bunch of roses made of desserts all at once?] I shifted my gaze back to the computer, my face blank, fingers moving mechanically across the keys. Each stroke felt like a countdown to liberation, a farewell to the life I had been suffocating in. We got home a little after six. The moment I stepped out of the car, a fire ignited within me. I marched straight to the bedroom, my heart racing as I grabbed my suitcase and began to pack. Clothes, shoes, memories—it all went in without a second thought, each item a testament to the years wasted in a loveless marriage. When Milton walked in, freshly showered and towel-drying his hair, he froze. His eyes drifted to my vanity, the half-empty surface betraying what I had been doing—packing my life away. He frowned, but it wasn’t the concern of a husband; it was mild curiosity, like noticing a chair out of place in a meticulously organized room. “Hey,” he said, his tone casual, “I’m going on a business trip to Milan next month. If you want anything, just make a list, and I’ll grab it for you.” “Nah. I don’t want anything. Thanks anyway.” In a few days, I’d be gone. No gifts, no gestures could fix that now. Suddenly, the air in the room shifted, thickening with tension. Milton tossed the towel onto the bed with a force that echoed my frustration, his eyes narrowing into cold, sharp slits as he bore down on me. “So, what?” he snapped, his voice hardening, cutting through the silence like a knife. “You’re upset because I bought you the desserts?” But before I could muster a single word, he scoffed, dismissing me as if I were a fly buzzing around his head. “Sara, you’re out of line,” he said, his words dripping with disgust, as if I were some inconvenient piece of furniture he was too weary to move. Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and stormed into his own bedroom, slamming the door with a force that reverberated through the walls, making them tremble like the remnants of our crumbling marriage. Seven years. Seven long, excruciating years of this twisted dance. He was always the first to retreat, the master of silent treatments and emotional lockouts, delivering his punishments without a word. Each time, I had bent, humbled myself, and tried to patch the fractures in our relationship. But this time , I felt a shift deep within me—a steel resolve solidifying with each breath. I raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his childish display, and turned off the bedside lamp with a decisive click, plunging the room into darkness.

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In the seventh year of our marriage, my husband fell in love with a kindergarten teacher and started treating me like dirt. “You’re old and ugly,” he said. “It’s a favor that I haven’t divorced you already.” My son, Connor, would look at me with disgust, saying, “Ms. Rivers is so much kinder than you, Mom. She’s a way better person.” And my parents piled on with their criticism too: “What kind of wife works this much? Work can’t make you a good mother, Julia!” They all kept pressuring me to give up my job, to come home and be the perfect wife and mother they wanted. 1 After wrapping up my business trip, I stopped by Cedar Park Kindergarten with Connor’s favorite bulldozer toy in hand, hoping to surprise him after school. When I got there, a few parents were already gathered, laughing and chatting in small clusters. I stood apart, unfamiliar with any of them, keeping my distance. One of the parents, visibly pregnant, glanced over at me with curiosity—and maybe a hint of suspicion. “Haven’t seen you around before. Which child is yours?” I pushed back my bangs with a smile. “My son’s Connor Hayes. He’s in the oldest class.” The crowd around me exchanged wide-eyed glances, as if I were some kind of rare animal on display. I couldn’t understand why they looked so shocked. I knew I didn’t pick Connor up often, but was it really that big of a surprise for me to be here? “Wait…you’re still around?” The pregnant woman hesitated, then quickly added, “I mean, Connor’s dad usually picks him up. Or sometimes his grandparents…” I guessed that my absence had led to some kind of assumption, and I gave her a polite smile. “My job keeps me busy, so my husband handles most of the pickups.” But even after I’d explained, their stares remained oddly intense, filled with an unsettling curiosity. I felt a hint of discomfort creeping in, and just as I was about to question them, a whole wave of parents arrived, murmuring among themselves and looking me up and down. The school bell rang, and parents poured into the kindergarten building. I joined the crowd, looking around for Connor, and then I spotted him. He was holding hands with a young woman, following her so obediently it nearly melted my heart. “Connor! Over here!” I waved to him, smiling. Connor spotted me and froze, his face registering shock before he clung to the young woman’s sleeve. Balancing on my heels, I walked over, knelt down, and held out the toy bulldozer. “Mom’s home early! I brought your favorite toy. Aren’t you excited?” The young woman’s face drained of color as she saw me. Other teachers nearby quickly stepped in to intercept. “Are you saying you’re Connor’s mother?” they asked, turning to Connor, who hesitated a long while before nodding reluctantly. But even then, the teachers didn’t let me through. They kept questioning me, asking why I was here to pick him up, and even probing into my marriage. I understood their concern, given I was an unfamiliar face, but the more questions they asked, the more riled up they seemed to get. They kept glancing nervously at the young woman with him. My instincts told me something wasn’t right. I decided to cut straight to the point: “Yes, I work a lot and don’t pick Connor up often, but hasn’t he mentioned me?” The teachers shifted uncomfortably. I felt a twinge of sadness but kept it to myself, focusing instead on my son. “Come on, Connor,” I said gently. “How about we go out for a nice dinner?” He wouldn’t come with me, hiding behind the young woman. “I want to wait for Dad to pick me up.” “I’m here, honey. We’ll just tell Dad to meet us at home later.” I coaxed him patiently. “Come on, I even booked your favorite steak place.” 2 But Connor just refused to go with me, and when he started crying loudly, I felt at a loss. I ended up calling my husband. When he realized I’d come home early, he sounded flustered but agreed to come over right away. So I waited, pacing outside the kindergarten, trying to understand how three short days away on business had left such a distance between my son and me. Then I noticed the pregnant woman again, hiding in the shade and sneaking bites of a snack with her little boy. She froze when she saw me watching, so I went over to pat her back. “Easy there, don’t choke,” I said with a small smile. She coughed and thanked me sheepishly, her little boy munching away, looking about Connor’s age. I couldn’t help but ruffle his hair; he looked so adorably stubborn. The woman hesitated before asking, “Connor’s mom, are you and his dad…still together?” What? I might have a busy schedule, but David and I had an arrangement where I focused on work, and he managed the home front. Not the most romantic setup, but it worked for us. I smiled. “I’ve been busy, but that doesn’t mean we’re getting divorced.” “Oh,” she said, voice trembling. “We all just thought…well, since you never showed up, we thought you weren’t…around. So we were kind of, um, encouraging Connor’s dad and Ms. Rivers.” Encouraging them? My mind went blank for a moment. “You mean, my husband and Ms. Rivers have…?” “Yes! We all thought Connor would like Ms. Rivers as a new mom. He even said so himself. So we just tried to help them out,” she explained, her face scrunched in distress. “If we’d known you were still…around, we never would have!” Imagine finding out you were declared dead without anyone telling you. I didn’t know what kind of expression to make. I just stood there in stunned silence until David arrived, holding Connor’s hand with Ms. Rivers right beside him, the three of them looking every bit like a picture-perfect family. I stepped forward and said, “Care for a chat?” 3 I’d always thought of myself as someone with a fair amount of patience. But David’s first reaction upon seeing me was irritation. “Why don’t you just head home first?” he said coldly. Connor echoed his father, “I want to go out with Dad and Ms. Rivers today.” I smiled wryly. “Not including me?” It was as if my own family had replaced me without telling me. I was just the old model, out of the loop. Standing at the kindergarten entrance, a small group of other parents watched us, murmuring among themselves. Ms. Rivers took the chance to flee, and David, or maybe I should say “someone else’s husband,” seethed as he hissed, “Julia, what’s wrong with you today?” What’s wrong with me? After pulling extra hours, all I wanted was to surprise my son. And this was the welcome I got? “I—” I barely started to speak before David yanked me away. I tried to pull back, but he dragged me to the car, shoved me into the back seat, and before I could even sit up, he floored the gas. I lurched forward, smacking my head on the front seat, the impact leaving me momentarily dizzy. Then, I heard Connor’s voice, quiet but scornful. “Serves you right. You shouldn’t bully Ms. Rivers.” My heart skipped a beat. Dazed, I reached up to touch my forehead and felt a sticky warmth on my hand—it was bleeding. Steadying myself, I spoke calmly, “David, take me to St. Mary’s.” He looked back in the rearview mirror and ignored me, keeping his eyes on the road home. At that moment, my anger was replaced by an icy dread. “Do you want a divorce?” I asked, voice cold. “Because you’re sinking pretty low here.” With a screech, he stopped the car on the side of the road, opened my door, and pushed me out. “Be grateful I haven’t divorced you, you washed-up woman.” He sneered, then lowered the window just enough to say, “Now, go cool off.” I pounded on the door, calling for Connor to let me in, but he just looked at me with disdain. “Ms. Rivers is way nicer than you. You deserve this.” Then, father and son sped off, leaving me stranded on the roadside. I ducked to the shoulder, barely avoiding traffic, and dialed for help. One car nearly hit me, and I rolled across its hood. The driver, horrified, immediately called 91

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed at St. Mary’s, the young driver sitting by me, head in his hands, sobbing. Seeing me stir, he jumped up. “You’re awake! Doc, nurse—she’s awake!” “I’m fine,” I assured him, though his relief was so genuine. “You’re innocent here.” He took a deep breath. “That’s good. I thought I’d really messed up.” I looked around the empty room, holding onto a final bit of hope. “The hospital didn’t contact my family?” The young man, probably in his early twenties, scratched his head. “They did, but once they heard it was just some bruises, they hung up.” I managed a bitter smile, tears welling up. What had I done to deserve this? “Please don’t cry, ma’am. You’re alright now.” 4 David and I had met through mutual friends. On paper, we were evenly matched in looks, just enough to feel like we “fit” together. His college degree and career weren’t as promising as mine, but he came from a local family with solid roots—his parents both had pensions and several properties. As for me, my career was on an upward climb, though my own family background wasn’t as secure. Growing up in rural parts with my grandparents while my parents juggled jobs, I never had a strong safety net or any family wealth to speak of. My parents had insisted I find someone close by, and David fit the bill perfectly. David was calm and practical, a great cook and a homebody. Our arrangement made sense: I took on the breadwinning role, while he managed the household. And I thought I did my part well. After Connor’s difficult birth, I poured everything into being a good mom. No matter how busy, I always tried to make time for him, sneaking in short trips or a special family night whenever I could. I even handed over my paycheck, knowing how it might look if people saw a man struggling to get by while raising a child. But somewhere along the line, David and even Connor had drifted away. Even through the heartbreak, I forced myself to think logically. Hiring Brad Maxwell, the private investigator, I finally got the answers I’d been avoiding. For nearly three years, David had been carrying on with Ms. Rivers. I thought I’d been busy, but not so busy I couldn’t be there for school pickup once in a while. David had convinced me I could better use my time preparing dinner while he swung by to get Connor. And on days when I was out of town? He brought Connor and Ms. Rivers together like they were one happy family. And Connor—my son, the one I’d given everything to—was in on the lie. Ms. Rivers was younger, more cheerful, always there when he needed something. Taking a deep breath, I asked Brad, “Does she know?” Brad hesitated, then replied, “I’d say yes. All the gifts David’s bought her were paid with your card.” 5 According to Brad, Ms. Rivers had apparently even checked David’s phone and discovered my existence. But David had spun the story, saying he was divorced and that the card was just for “child support.” As if regular payments could be for child support. She had to know. Giving her the benefit of the doubt one last time, I tracked down her contact information and asked her to meet me. But when I arrived, it wasn’t Ms. Rivers waiting for me; it was David. He walked right up to me and threw coffee in my face. “Julia, enough already! I’m warning you, if you keep messing with Amanda, you’ll regret it.”

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Seven years into my marriage, I stumbled on a TikTok post showing my husband in a wedding photo—with someone else. Scrolling through the first video, I realized they’d been married for seven years, too. The marriage I thought was perfect had been a total joke. Following the trail of his TikTok videos, I discovered his secret account, where he gave “advice” on double lives: “One up North, one down South. No way they’ll ever run into each other.” “Pick the practical one for the marriage certificate. Women like that won’t leave even if they find out about you!” I didn’t even stop to wipe my tears. That night, I packed and erased every trace of myself from the place I’d called home. Rick was on a business trip, so I spent the day on the couch, binging TikTok videos. We’re a DINK couple, and after seven years, things were supposed to be perfect, at least in theory. But he’s a workaholic, away on business trips more than half the month. He’s never around long enough to stick to any kind of schedule—it’s always last-minute, “just gotta go.” After scrolling aimlessly for a while, I felt a bit hungry but couldn’t decide what to order. I typed into TikTok’s search bar, “What to eat when your husband’s always away on business?” It was so ridiculous I laughed and screenshot it to send to Rick. Predictably, there was no response. He’s like that. Whenever he’s busy, everything else disappears. Scrolling down, I found a TikTok from a woman whose life seemed to mirror my own. Her captions practically described my life: “My husband’s on a business trip again, so I’m just lying on the couch all day, trying to decide what to eat.” “My husband’s a workaholic, always gone half the month, leaving me alone. I miss him!” “Married seven years, everything’s perfect, except for the no-kids part.” … The videos mostly used cute stock photos until suddenly, one real photo popped up—a vintage wedding portrait. The caption read, “Happy seventh anniversary!” The bride looked vaguely familiar, and I knew the groom instantly. It was Rick. My heart skipped a beat, then kept beating faster and faster, until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The impact of that picture was like a slap to the face. It took me a long while to even grasp what was happening. It was clear Rick had been unfaithful. Every caption in her posts fit neatly with his business trip schedule. He’d been cheating for the full seven years. The marriage I’d thought was solid was nothing but a cruel joke. I’d been a complete fool. After some deep breaths, I finally felt calm enough to keep scrolling and found his secret TikTok account, where he had his “double life tips”: “One up North, one down South. No way they’ll ever meet.” “Choose the practical one for the certificate. This type of woman won’t leave you easily, even if she finds out.” So I was the “practical one.” He married me because I was trusting, supportive, and never raised hell. I’d been the one who earned the title “wife.” And the other woman? Beautiful, flirtatious, good at making him feel loved, so she got his time, attention, and affection. One post’s caption hit me the hardest: “He says when he saves enough, we’ll marry in a country where divorce isn’t allowed. We’ll stay together forever.” Rick had never said those words to me. I’d always thought he was just quiet, a little shy, not the kind to sweet-talk. Turns out, he just didn’t think I was worth the effort. Seven years, and I’d poured everything I had into him—unquestioning support, unwavering trust. Whenever he said he had to go, I never questioned him. He said he was working hard to make money for us, and I’d believed it without a doubt. Now, I realize just how naïve I was.

I scrolled through more of her TikTok posts, finding her very first video. The setting was a small rural town, and it looked like a holiday celebration was going on. Something about the town looked familiar, and that’s when it hit me: she was Amber, a distant relative of Rick’s from Sweetwater. I’d only met Amber once, during our fourth year of marriage. That year, right before the holidays, I insisted on visiting Rick’s hometown to meet his family. Before we got married, Rick had said his hometown was too remote for me to visit, and his parents were fine with a long-distance wedding over video call. Every holiday since, Rick would go on about how my parents were alone and needed me around, so we’d spend holidays apart. But that year, I pushed harder than ever and wouldn’t take no for an answer. And so, reluctantly, Rick brought me to Sweetwater. That’s when I met Amber. She glared at me with a look I couldn’t quite shake off. “So, this is your wife from the city? She doesn’t look like much.” Rick brushed it off, explaining that she was some distant cousin from his family with a bit of a feud, and they didn’t get along well. It was my first time there, so I didn’t think much of it. That night, though, Rick insisted we head back to Nashville, even though I wanted to stay and get to know his parents. Even his parents seemed eager to send us off, saying that as their only child, it wouldn’t be right to leave my parents on their own for the holidays. As we were leaving, Amber appeared again, staring hard at Rick this time. My intuition flared up, and I asked Rick what was really going on. He brushed it off, calling me paranoid and like all “those other suspicious wives.” But finally, he explained enough to ease my mind. He said Amber had had a severe fever as a kid that had left her mentally “a little off.” Apparently, the town’s “fool” looked at people the way she did. And I bought it. Now I know who the real fool was all along—me. Amber’s TikTok was full of videos about her life with Rick. They’d even had a big wedding in Sweetwater, with a three-day reception. When Rick and I got married, he told me he hated “over-the-top formalities” and wanted something simple. So we went to a nearby city for a short weekend honeymoon. I’d thought he was just modest, uninterested in public displays. Now I realized he just didn’t want them with me. I laughed through my tears, my face a mess with both. At some point, a message came through from Rick: “Babe, the project here hit a snag. I won’t be back tomorrow after all.” I already knew why. Tomorrow was his anniversary with her. Every year, he was there to celebrate with her. Meanwhile, in all the years we’d been married, he hadn’t remembered a single anniversary with me. Before, I’d always told him it was okay if he couldn’t make it home. I’d tell him not to worry, to eat well, to rest when he could. This time, though, I typed only three words in reply: “Let’s divorce.”

I packed up everything of mine that night—trashed what I didn’t want, burned what I couldn’t stand to see again, and erased every trace of my existence from that apartment in Oakdale Ridge. By the time I wheeled my suitcase out the door, my phone was still silent. Rick was busy celebrating his anniversary with Amber; he wouldn’t see my text for a while. I rented a cabin at Mountain Inn, changed my phone number, and gave it only to my parents. Each day, I’d sit quietly in the yard, staring into the mountains, taking in the silence, eating and sleeping, and little else. A week later, Rick’s number appeared on my phone. He called several times, but I didn’t answer. Then the messages started coming in. “Lauren, where have you been? Staying out all night?” Rick must have gotten home last night, then found out this morning that I was gone. He’d called my parents to get my new number, and here he was, blowing up my phone. “Why aren’t you answering? All because I came home a few days late? Lauren, since when did you start being so unreasonable?” “Your parents said you changed your number days ago. What have you been doing all this time, and with whom?” “If you don’t want this marriage, have you even told your parents? If you don’t want to worry them, then come back here!” Just then, my parents called, wondering if Rick and I had had a fight. I made up a quick excuse to ease their worries, then dialed Rick. I just wanted a few days of peace to myself, a little distance to clear my head. I hadn’t meant to vanish completely, after all. We were still legally bound, and I couldn’t walk away without closure. My chest tightened painfully as I began to speak, taking deep breaths to keep myself steady. “Rick, I’ve thought it over. Let’s just end things.” There was silence on the other end before he finally replied: “Lauren, are you serious?” “I’ve been slaving away in another city to provide for you, struggling to eat, barely sleeping. You’re leaving me, disappearing without a word just because of some little fight?” I chuckled bitterly. For days, Amber’s TikToks had been about her new luxury gifts, her “perfect” life. “He said I’m his motivation to work so hard! He wants to buy me the best things the world has to offer!” “He’s almost saved enough, and soon we’ll move to the country of our dreams!” Those expensive gifts were things I wouldn’t have dreamed of asking for. I’d thought I was being considerate, not wanting to waste his hard-earned money on luxuries. Meanwhile, he’d been showering her with lavish presents, money flowing freely for her. I remembered his recent mention of an overseas assignment, a dream his boss wanted him to lead. He’d said that working abroad would triple his income and secure our future. That night, he’d clutched my hands with rare excitement. “This is too good to pass up, honey. It means you’ll have to care for my parents for a few years, though. But later, we’ll bring them to live with us, and they can keep you company!” I’d nodded, foolishly willing to support him. Yet now, he had the audacity to say he’d been struggling to “take care of me,” that he worked so hard for my sake? “Rick, do you even need my support?” I asked coolly. “What do you mean?” His voice sharpened with tension. I said nothing. The tone on the other end shifted to irritation. “Lauren, tell me where you are. I’ll come to get you.” He went on, saying our anniversary was coming up and he’d even gotten me a gift this time. I cut him off. “Don’t bother. Let’s meet at the family court at nine tomorrow.”

The next day at the family court, I didn’t find Rick—but I did find my parents. They’d taken a last-minute train and arrived without warning. “Lori, what’s going on? Rick said you’ve been gone for days and are dead-set on a divorce!” Mom leaned in, looking worried. “Tell us the truth, honey. Did you do something to hurt Rick? Look, he’s such a good man, a straightforward guy. You know we all love him! Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” I’d been up all night, my head pounding, and this just made it worse. In my parents’ eyes, Rick was the ideal son-in-law. I used to believe he was the perfect husband, too. But that was only because he’d hidden his secrets so well. Rick knew me too well. He must’ve realized I was serious about the divorce, and that’s why he dragged my parents into this. I could handle his affair, but using my parents’ worries against me was going too far. It took a lot of gentle persuasion, but eventually, I calmed them down. Rick’s latest stunt was beyond infuriating. If he wanted to make this ugly, fine. I’d make him the one begging for a divorce. That night, I followed Amber on TikTok from my main account. The moment I opened my inbox, a new message popped up: she’d followed me back. “Who are you?” her message read. My profile picture was one of me and Rick. Even if she didn’t know me, she would surely recognize him. “Let’s skip the act and talk,” I replied. She sent a friend request on Facebook, and once I accepted, I hit video call. My heart pounded, but I steadied myself as the call connected. “Lauren Bennett,” Amber said with a smirk, “didn’t think you had the nerve to reach out.” “Amber,” I replied calmly, “what makes you think you’re better than me, flaunting my husband around?” She laughed. “Oh, honey, you’re so pitiful!” I laughed back. “No, Amber, you’re the pitiful one. You’ve been playing house with a married man for seven years—without a marriage license.” She blanched, her face tightening. “You two are married? You have a certificate?” I held my marriage certificate up to the camera, flipping through its pages for her to see. Amber squinted, taking in every detail. “He married you? Seven years ago?” Her voice shook. I played a recording of a recent conversation with Rick. “We’re legally married, Amber, and I’ve already asked for a divorce. But guess what? He won’t agree.” Amber’s face turned ashen. “Why won’t he agree?” “Maybe he loves me too much to let go,” I said with a slight smile. “So, this is just some twisted flex?” she spat. I held up a bill from Rick’s purchases and placed it against the camera. “No, Amber, I just wanted you to know that every penny Rick spent on you came from our joint account. Everything you’ve enjoyed—yeah, you’ll be paying me back for that.” Amber’s face paled further, her lips trembling. “The money he spent on me is nothing. I don’t care about the cash—I just enjoy his devotion!” Her eyes narrowed. “Who do you think you are to judge me? You’re broke and plain, only good for keeping house and playing wifey. You don’t stand a chance.” Her sneer continued as she added, “Rick’s plan has always been to work abroad with my family’s money. They’re ready to give him millions for that move—a number you can’t even imagine. What could you possibly bring to the table?” So, that was his plan. Rick had never told me anything about it. If he’d shared his dream with me, I’d have been willing to support him. But I’d learned enough by now. I ended the call without another word, ignoring her last bout of gloating. Sure enough, later that evening, Rick showed up at my door.

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My roommate claimed her boyfriend was a young master living in a luxurious coastal community. She also said, “My boyfriend’s only worry is that he can’t keep up with his parents’ pace.” Huh? We live in the same apartment complex. But why have I never seen this boyfriend she keeps talking about? Recently, the luxurious coastal community suddenly became a hot topic online. I was puzzled when I heard my roommate bragging about it in our dorm room. Although the houses there are expensive, not many people even know it exists. So… my roommate is dating a guy who lives in that community? Everyone has a bit of gossip in them. I listened eagerly from my bed as my roommate recounted how she met her boyfriend, how it was love at first sight, and how they fell head over heels for each other. Oh! How cliché! But I love it! “Lily, you said your boyfriend is from a rich family. What does he look like? Can we see a picture?” one of our roommates asked. Lily giggled shyly and pulled up a photo of her boyfriend on her phone, turning the screen towards us. I was a bit far away and couldn’t see clearly, but the outline of this person looked quite unfamiliar. I felt like I had never seen him before. My other two roommates saw the photo and couldn’t help but exclaim. “Wow! He’s so handsome!” “Does he really live in that coastal community? He’s really one of those rich and handsome young masters! Lily, you’re so lucky!” Under the adoration of our two roommates, Lily seemed to be floating on cloud nine. “I guess I got lucky. We met at a club activity last time… maybe it’s fate!” Club activity? I caught this key phrase and hesitated for a moment before asking her. “You mean… the club activity we went to together last time?” Lily finally turned to look at me, but her attitude was quite arrogant. “Yeah, what about it? Are you jealous?” Me: “?” What am I supposed to be jealous of? Jealous that her boyfriend lied to her about being from a rich family? When will this girl ever wise up? If the outline in the photo had left me uncertain before, now I could be sure. Lily’s boyfriend was a liar. At the last club activity, I went with Lily. I didn’t see any familiar faces at the event venue. Others might not know, but all the people around our age living in the coastal community know each other. We might not be very close, but we all recognize each other’s faces and greet each other when we meet. So, I couldn’t have been mistaken. Lily proudly glanced at me, and seeing me deep in thought, she became even more convinced that I was jealous of her. “My boyfriend, he doesn’t care about our class difference at all. His only worry now is that he can’t keep up with his parents’ pace.” “He also said that when he takes over the family company, he’ll make me the boss’s wife. I can spend the company’s money however I want!” I came back to my senses and heard these words. I couldn’t help but look at her. Oh, this… Does this person have any common sense? Actually, companies don’t have that much liquid cash, and every bit of movable funds is accounted for meticulously. Using company money like that… it would be considered embezzlement. I couldn’t help but suspect that Lily’s boyfriend had read too many novels and had been brainwashed.

Just as my thoughts drifted, Lily spoke up. Before speaking, she cast a disdainful glance at me. Seeing me lost in thought, it was as if she was saying, “Can’t imagine it, can you? Jealous, aren’t you?” “This weekend is my boyfriend’s birthday, and he wants to invite everyone out for dinner. Are you all free?” As Lily spoke, she brushed her hair back with her hand, revealing a shiny silver bracelet on her wrist. “Wow! Lily, your bracelet is so beautiful! When did you buy it?” one roommate exclaimed. “It must be from her boyfriend. Lily’s boyfriend is so rich, this looks expensive!” another chimed in. Lily pursed her lips and smiled shyly. “It’s not that much. My boyfriend gave it to me for Christmas. It only cost about $5,000.” Another round of exclamations followed. Only I swallowed hard. With that quality… $50 tops. I’m not looking down on anyone, but my mom loves researching these things with her friends when she’s bored. She knows all about which brand just released a new limited edition globally, which style is the same as Princess Diana’s. She can recite it all. I’ve been influenced by her. “Your boyfriend is really rich!” “And I heard that restaurant costs over $200 per person. With six people in our dorm, that’s over a thousand dollars for one night!” The roommates got more and more excited, some even canceling their dates on SnapChat just to see what this so-called rich young master looked like. Me: “…” We’re all just people, there’s really not that much difference. Although my brother is quite good-looking, from middle school to college, he’s always bragging about being chased by a bunch of girls. Last semester, he was almost scouted by a well-known entertainment company. Seeing me cough lightly, Lily immediately looked at me vigilantly. “Claire, what do you mean?” I was stunned for a moment. What do I mean? That restaurant is right next to my house. Back in high school, they delivered breakfast to us every day. Can I say I’m sick of it? Her eyes started to look a bit sarcastic. “My boyfriend is so sincere in inviting everyone. You’ll come that day, right?” I immediately nodded. Why wouldn’t I come? I want to see who from the community it is. But this girl, she actually snorted again. She probably thought I was excited to see her “young master”.

On Saturday morning, a flashy yellow Ferrari stopped at the school gate. Lily excitedly waved in that direction. Facing the wind, she turned back, tucked her hair behind her ear, and smiled shyly at us, “Sorry, he’s late.” I narrowed my eyes and looked at the license plate. Why did it look so familiar? But I didn’t think much of it. Rich people often like these kinds of lucky number sequences, more or less the same. The man in the car looked about the same age as my brother. He took off his sunglasses and greeted us. Our eyes met. He was good-looking, but indeed unfamiliar. Seeing her boyfriend’s gaze fall on me and our brief eye contact, Lily immediately blocked me. With a fake smile: “I’m sorry, Claire. His Ferrari can only seat four people. So you and Rachel will have to take a cab.” Her voice was sweet and seemingly full of apology. After speaking, she turned back and smiled tenderly at the man in the car. The man flipped his sunglasses coolly. Me: “…” “Wow, your boyfriend is so handsome!” “His clothes look so expensive!” The roommates who were close to her started praising again. Rachel and I got into the car I called. Seeing the luxurious interior, Rachel looked around in surprise: “Claire, this kind of car must be expensive, right? Send me the bill later, I’ll split it with you.” I smiled and said, “It’s okay, I happen to have a coupon. This ride is free.” I knew Rachel’s family situation was not good. She only had her 70-year-old grandmother at home. She often worked part-time jobs after class and sent money home for living expenses. Because of this, Lily and her little dorm clique often looked down on her. But I thought a hardworking and ambitious girl like her was much more admirable than some people. Rachel gave me a grateful smile. I didn’t tell her that this car actually belonged to my dad. And it was worth eight figures. And it was just one of countless cars my family owned. The gap between people can sometimes be as big as the sky. I was just born a little luckier. So, I never thought it was something to be proud of. The car stopped in front of the restaurant. Lily and the other roommates were standing outside. When they saw us get out of the Rolls-Royce, they were stunned for a moment. Then Lily smirked sarcastically: “Claire, it’s just a ride, you don’t need to try so hard.” “Putting on airs, but you’re spending your own money.” Her words were really stinging now, probably because she had been flattered too much on the way here and had lost her bearings. If it weren’t for her roommates holding her back, she might have floated up to the sky. I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. She was about to speak again when her boyfriend walked out from inside. His gaze fell on me for a moment before he invited us in. Although it was very quiet, I still heard her boyfriend ask behind us. “What does your roommate’s family do? That outfit she’s wearing might cost $10,000.” “What?!” After entering, Lily’s look at me changed. But soon, she showed a look of disdain again. That look seemed to say, this must be a knockoff, how could someone like her wear such nice clothes? While ordering, Lily kept turning her head and asking her boyfriend various questions in a sweet voice. “Xavier, didn’t you say your family has a villa in France? And your sister is studying in France, right? My roommates are all curious about life in France, why don’t you tell everyone about it?” Her boyfriend, oh, called Xavier Quinn, was clearly pleased with her admiring gaze and started talking confidently. I have to say, what he described was pretty much how it is. My brother and I do go to France for vacation every summer. Because of this, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had just moved in, which was why I didn’t recognize him. Halfway through his story, Lily suddenly and inexplicably started to bring me into the conversation. “Claire, didn’t you say your cousin also graduated from a university in France?” “Why don’t you tell us about it?”

I was speechless. Please, it was my cousin who studied in France, not me. What am I supposed to say?? Lily’s expression, however, clearly showed that she wanted to embarrass me, staring at me intently, demanding that I say something. It wasn’t until her boyfriend tugged at her and tried to smooth things over by saying, “The food is here, let’s eat!” that she stopped. After saying that, he lowered his voice and whispered in Lily’s ear: “Babe, don’t provoke her casually.” “…” Is a $10,000 outfit really worth that kind of conclusion? However, I was also happy to be at ease. I had originally planned to intervene myself, but now I was off the hook. Lily looked unconvinced, but had to settle down. Rachel comforted me: “Claire, don’t mind her. She’s always like this.” I nodded and smiled at her, indicating it was fine. “Alright, everyone eat up!” “Today is my treat, don’t be shy!” I have to say, these two looked quite like a married couple. One acting generous, the other full of admiration. I glanced at the dishes on the table. They were all things I was tired of eating, so I wasn’t very interested. During the meal, Xavier asked me a few questions. Although they were all pleasantries, they seemed casual, but every sentence was trying to find out about my family situation. When I went to the restroom, I heard a conversation from inside. “Xavier, what are you doing?! Are you interested in that little bitch Claire?” Lily’s voice was full of anger. Me: “??” It took me two seconds to resist the urge to go in and slap her twice, and I continued to listen to the male voice from inside. “Baby, don’t get excited.” “I saw that bracelet on her hand, it looks like a limited edition global release, similar to the one my good friend’s sister has. I wanted to confirm if it was the same.” “Didn’t you say her surname is also Johnson?” I looked down at my bracelet. Well, well, so you’re the one who gave me away. My mom had it brought back from France for my birthday last month. I don’t know how much it cost, I just wear it as an accessory. Lily just made a dissatisfied “hmm” sound. Then added: “But how could she possibly be your friend’s sister?!” “Someone like her?!” “…” The bathroom door opened, and I stepped aside. I didn’t plan to let them see me for now. I still wanted to settle accounts when I got home. I wondered when Jack had made such a fox-like friend. Just as I was thinking, Jack’s message came. “Sis, Mom and Dad want you to come home tonight.” “Did you forget what day it is today?” I stared at the message blankly for a long time. “You really forgot!!!” Even through the screen, I could feel my brother’s roar. “Today is your brother’s—my birthday!!!” Oh. I suddenly realized and replied. “Got it.” When I returned to the table, Lily’s boyfriend was talking confidently to the table full of girls. With a not-so-authentic accent: “You don’t know, but my family actually values girls more than boys. When my sister turned 18, my dad bought her an island in France!” “When I turned 18, he just gave me the car parked outside.” “Oh, you poor thing. Does that mean you won’t inherit as much of the family fortune as your sister?” one of the roommates worried for the young master. “That won’t happen…” he waved his hand, then looked up and saw me. Xavier paused for a moment, then put on a smile: “Claire’s back.” Me: “…” Are we that close? Lily pinched him hard from the side, and he frowned and withdrew his gaze. I walked back to my seat, bent down to pick up my bag, and a fleeting thought crossed my mind that his story sounded awfully familiar. An island for the sister’s 18th birthday, a Ferrari for the brother’s 18th birthday, isn’t that just me and my brother? But I guess rich families are all similar. “Claire, are you leaving?” Xavier stood up too. I nodded, and he eagerly said: “Let me drive you!”

In the end, under Lily’s murderous glare, Xavier still insisted on driving me home. “I couldn’t pick her up earlier, so I’ll send her back now.” He smiled, running his hand through his hair that was about to take flight. “I want to go too!” Lily jumped up. Then she looked at me with curved eyes and a smile. “I want to see where Claire lives too.” “Sure,” I said. I picked up my bag and smiled calmly. After leaving the restaurant, Xavier eagerly opened the passenger door and looked at me. I walked straight to the back seat. Lily’s fingers were almost digging into her palms. When closing the door, she wanted to slam it but didn’t dare use too much force. Just a small “bang”, and her boyfriend glared at her. Seeing Lily about to cry, he softened his tone. “Okay baby, I’m sorry…” He said this, but his eyes vigilantly checked the car door several times. Only after making sure it was okay did he breathe a sigh of relief. I sat in the back seat, looking like I was watching a good show between the two of them. Go ahead and slam it. Even if you really damage half the door of this car, it would only cost a few hundred thousand to fix. Lily was clearly still angry, but she didn’t forget to turn back and act nice to me, smiling and asking: “Claire, where do you want to go?” “The Coastal Villas.” “Are you okay??” “Claire, it’s nighttime now, what daydream are you having?” Lily looked at me in shock. I was almost amused by her expression. Is living in the Coastal Villas some kind of daydream? Seeing that I didn’t respond, her boyfriend pulled her hand and turned back, smiling at me in the rearview mirror. “Okay, let’s go to the Coastal Villas.” This “young master” must really be new to the area, he even needed to use GPS. My brother could get back there with his eyes closed. After getting out of the car, I calmly took out my phone and took a picture of the license plate. Lily snorted disdainfully. She wanted to assert her ownership again, so she leaned into the driver’s seat and hugged her boyfriend’s neck to kiss him. Me: “…” Xavier was stunned for a moment and pushed her away almost imperceptibly. Lily seemed to realize something and turned her face towards the car window to look at me: “Claire, didn’t you say your home is in the Coastal Villas? Why have you been standing at the entrance for so long without going in?” As soon as she finished speaking, the gate opened. “Young miss is back?” The security guard greeted me through the window with a kind smile. Lily’s face turned black, looking multi-colored under the car’s interior lights. This is getting interesting. “Xavier, should we go in too?” Lily squirmed a bit and turned her head coyly. Xavier was stunned again, but quickly came to his senses and smiled to reassure her: “I still need to drive your other roommates back to school.” “Xavier, you’re so thoughtful.”

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